


Sayaendou

by tysunkete (aozu)



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Sports, M/M, Sailing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-22 02:22:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13157202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aozu/pseuds/tysunkete
Summary: AU. Lavi doesn’t understand how pro sailors Kanda Yuu and Allen Walker think that they can win the inter-school regatta with him.(It’s because they’re desperate, shhh.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted: 24/08/2014.

  _When I awoke, I was in the middle of the ocean, surrounded_  
_A grim pirate yelled at us,_  
_“How long are you gonna sleep? They’re almost here!”_  
_It was then that everything started to move;  
__It was the real thing._  

_We’re in the middle of the ocean; in an instant we’re surrounded_  
_In the distance, the pirate shouted,_  
_“I’m gonna go pay them a visit; you protect the ship!”  
_ _With my fist raised, I realised we were pirates too._

—Sayaendou, NEWS

* * *

“This is a problem,” Tyki hums with fingers stroking his chin, legs crossed.

Opposite him are two youths sulking and steadfastly avoiding each other, arms crossed in a simultaneous huff.

“It’s _his_ fault!” both of them snap, and Tyki just hums again.

“It’s not _my_ fucking fault, beansprout,” the one on the right growls.

“The name is _Allen_ ,” the other retorts immediately with a scoff. “I don’t see how you shouldn’t be considered at fault here with that lack of brain and you were the one who scared everyone off with your ugly attitude, stupid Kanda!”

“Tch, we don’t need weak asses in the team—“

“—except that yes, we kind of do,” Allen rolls his eyes sarcastically. “We won’t be able to qualify at this rate.”

Tyki sighs and lets the other two fall into another round of mindless bickering—he’s already used to the petty arguments despite having them both on the same team for less than a month. But Allen and Kanda have known each other for a long time since they’re on a professional youth sailing team for years now. He has no idea why the two attends this junior college either, _Innocence International_ ; maybe because both of them are decidedly not native to the hot and sunny island of Singapore.

Allen is normally a polite and smiley youth with the most shocking crop of snow white hair—the boy insists that it’s natural and the school boards have not found anything to prove otherwise as of yet—Tyki honestly believes it’s just bleached beyond hope with the salt and sea and actual bleach. Kanda, on the other hand, is generally the most acerbic teenager he’s had the misfortune to handle despite the pretty face and model worthy physique, complete with a gorgeous length of hair that should be flaunting the school rules, but is somehow overlooked.

Tyki himself is just a humble literature teacher for the junior college, shoved to be the teacher in charge of the co-curricular activity sailing just because he has done a little of the sport when he was their age. He’s been alright with the arrangement so far—the sailing team is usually small, last year seniors Daisya Barry and Noise Marie could somehow play along with Kanda’s irritable moods, and he doesn’t really need to do much but to follow them to trainings after school. He can read a book at the beach while the sailors burn their scalps out at sea. It’s a good deal.

But this year where Kanda is the only sailor in his year and Allen is a freshman, there is a need to recruit more people into the team. There is a misguided impression that sailing is an individualistic sport—it kind of is, but their school won’t be able to compete if they don’t form a team, and a minimum of three people is required.

It’s hard to recruit people at junior college level, Tyki knows, because there isn’t the luxury of time to get them trained from scratch if they have to compete in the inter-schools. They only have two years anyway, most of it burned up from struggling with the final A level examinations at the end of it. He didn’t really think they’d find someone from the co-curricular activity exhibition day. Most sailors come in with an overlook to their entry grades via DSA aka direct-school-admission if they have a sport skill to offer. But now in the reality of it, they are kind of screwed.

“Maybe you two should join another club,” he says in thought, and the squabbling immediately silences.

“What the fuck?” Kanda’s eloquent protest comes first. “I’m not joining another group with a bunch of losers.”

“No, no way,” Allen nods in assent. “You know that weekend training isn’t enough for us.”

 “Then you have to get someone—blackmail, force—I don’t care,” Tyki sighs. “Don’t either of you have any…friends that might be interested?”

“I just came to this school. I don’t know many people, besides my classmates,” Allen rolls his eyes with a huff. “And I bet stupid Kanda doesn’t have friends.”

“I don’t need friends,” Kanda states with an equally put out huff, though he doesn’t seem offended by the remark. “Besides, everyone in year two are already in some stupid club—it’s mandatory, idiot.”

Tyki sighs again. “Well, you kids have two weeks to bribe someone, or worst case scenario, the school board will close this club down.”

“They can’t do that!” Allen protest, slightly on the edge of panic. “I joined this school because you guys had a sailing club—“

“I’m afraid they can,” he raises his eyebrow at the white haired teen. “If we don’t have a qualifying team, the board will see no reason to fund your trainings.”

“I knew I should’ve entered another junior college,” Allen mutters.

“As if they would want you, beansprout,” Kanda sneers.

“Shut up, jerk. I got a 6 for O levels, unlike Mr-I-DSAed-in.”

“What was that?”

“Deaf as well as stupid, I never would’ve thought.”

“You fucking—“

“Children,” Tyki claps his hands loudly. “Do it later, out of my office. Allen, try to find us someone by the end of this week, and Kanda,” he gives the other a pointed look. “You have absolutely no say about the new member. Got it?”

“So much for a democratic society,” Kanda mutters, sour. “And I bet the beansprout will fail.”

“Do you even _want_ to sail?” Tyki raises his eyebrows.

“Is that a bet?” Allen grins, eyes narrowing. “Because loser buys lunch. And when I say lunch, I mean _lunch_.”

There must be some kind of history behind that because Kanda actually hesitates for a split second before the expression morphs into an even darker scowl, but Tyki doesn’t really want to know. But of course Kanda falls to the bait.

“Fat ass,” the Japanese says with a scoff. “You’re on.”

* * *

“Keep bugging, beansprout,” Kanda smirks.

“Shut up,” Allen glares at the other, but he doesn’t stop the hand that spoons more rice into his mouth. “The week isn’t over.”

“It will be by today. Face it, bean. You’re gonna lose.”

“I have this feeling like you _want_ me to fail,” Allen mutters, sour. “Do you even care that we can’t sail? Why can’t we start practice without a third member? I want to sail,” he bemoans.

It’s Friday and they’re in the canteen during one of their common breaks sitting at table at the far back. Kanda prefers to spend his breaks alone and usually does so in some secluded corner in the school, but he had wandered down to the canteen to get a drink. It was too fucking hot, lately. Allen, who was already there with presumably a bunch of his classmates, unfortunately spotted him and brought his tray of food over—the bean was always eating, fuck their common breaks, ugh—and Lenalee appeared and sat herself opposite them a minute later. Lenalee Lee is a first year in the same class as Allen, but she has known Kanda even longer than Allen has known Kanda for.

Somehow, the circle completes in this junior college.

“You’ll find someone,” she smiles sympathetically, taking a sip of her ice cold milo. “It’s just too bad that there isn’t a division for girls. I wouldn’t mind learning.”

“Thanks, Lenalee,” Allen smiles sincerely through his plate of food. “But even if you could, you can’t drop out of the dance team.”

“It won’t fucking help anyway, the races are unisex,” Kanda puts in, and Lenalee huffs at him.

“It’s the thought, mister,” she frowns, and leans on her palm thinking. “It’s still tryouts week, so there’s bound to be someone who wants to change clubs. Or maybe you should look around in your year, Kanda. Maybe someone who quit a society last year?”

“How the hell would I know?”

“I’m telling you to open your mouth and _ask_ ,” Lenalee sighs, shaking her head. “I don’t know any seniors aside from you and Lavi, and Lavi—“ she stops abruptly. “Wait,” she snaps her fingers excitedly. “Lavi! He might be able to help!”

“Lavi?” Allen repeats the name with a hum. “Our orientation group leader? Isn’t he in the literary society?”

“He is, but luckily for you boys, I caught him by the gate after school the other day and he was saying that he wanted to try something else for his final year. He’s bored, I think.”

“Who the fuck is this guy?” Kanda interjects, scowling.

Lenalee squints incredulously. “How have you _not_ heard of him? He topped every single exam in your year!”

“Why should I care if someone gets an A on a fucking paper?”

Allen stares. “…But everyone knows—…nevermind.”

“What?” Kanda glares. “If you have something to say, spit it out, beansprout.”

Before another fight escalates, Lenalee perks up, attention caught but someone in the distance. “I see Lavi! Hold on boys, I’ll call him over.”

The female student in gone before either of them can say anything. Kanda’s gaze trails after his childhood friend, finding her weaving past tables and calling out to a youth just walking in to the canteen surrounded by his classmates. The person in question has the reddest hair Kanda has ever seen—it’s red like fire which by all accounts cannot be natural, and also one of his eye is covered by a white medicinal eyepatch, loopy grin lazy on his lips.

Oh, _him_. Yeah, Kanda _has_ seen this guy before—although vaguely around school. They’re not in the same class so it’s forgivable that Kanda doesn’t know him nor his name, but he has definitely seen that annoying flash of red and the nasal tone of voice that comes with it. Maybe because that guy has spoken at assembly or taken a prize for something (or many somethings), fuck, Kanda doesn’t really care.  

The redhead brightens when Lenalee stops in front of him and words are exchanged. Next thing Kanda knows is that the other has left his friends and is walking over to their table with Lenalee smiling widely, leading the way.

“Oh, Allen! Long time no see!” the guy—Lavi—grins and waves once they’re close.

The fucking _accent_. Kanda scowls harder.

Allen manages a half ‘hey’ that’s muted by the food he’s chewing, but the white haired boy does swallow it down to make a proper greeting later. “How are you?”

Lavi shrugs as he takes the seat right across Kanda as though it’s his place there all along. “Same old, same old. You? Settling into JC life? How do you feel about having that math test two weeks into term?” he smirks.

Allen groans. “Don’t remind me. I threw away all my trigonometry knowledge after Os—did they really have to do that?”

“Keeps you on your toes,” Lavi winks. “If you ever need notes, I’ve got a bunch of ‘em and you’re welcome to ‘em…if you can read my handwriting, that is.”

Allen laughs, and Kanda loses his temper. “If the fucking idiot is of no help at all, I’m taking my fucking leave.”

Lenalee grabs his arm with a strong grip before he stands up. “Kanda, that was rude,” she glares, and he growls threateningly.

The tension is broken when loud laughter bursts from the redhead. Lenalee has the decency to look apologetic on Kanda’s behalf.

“Sorry, I forgot to introduce you to him, he’s—“

“Yuu Kanda, I know,” Lavi finishes, maybe a bit too quickly. “Everyone knows.”

Kanda frowns at the smiley grin sent his way.

“Captain of our esteemed sailing club,” Lavi continues, and mocks a bow. “What can I do for you?”

Luckily, Lenalee interjects before actual blood is spilled. “Lavi, you said you were looking for a new co-curricular activity right? Do you want to try sailing?”

“A sport?” Lavi pauses, humming in thought. “I told you it’s not worth it—it won’t add anything to my CV since I won’t be on the team anyway.”

Lenalee grins. “You’ll absolutely be on the team, I can promise that.”

“Really? But you should know that I can’t sail.”

“It doesn’t matter. You can learn, right boys?”

“No fucking way,” Kanda states, and both the first years hiss at him.

“Kanda!”

“Kanda, _shut up_ ,” Allen grinds out. “You have no rights in this recruitment process at all. Remember? None. Zlich.”

Kanda sours, and takes one slow look at the redhead. “Tch. Whatever,” he mutters, standing up, and this time Lenalee doesn’t stop him. “Waste your damn time, then. He’ll quit by the first training, you’ll see.”

The senior stalks away, leaving his empty cup on the table, to which Lenalee scowls at.

“Why is he always like that?” she murmurs. “I’m sorry about that, Lavi. Kanda is...nice, when you get to know him,” she finishes, and Allen coughs exaggeratedly into his plate. “Allen!”

“I didn’t say anything!” The boy protests, though he is grinning wide. “So Lavi, if you’ll please ignore the unpleasantness that was Kanda, what do you think about trying sailing?”

“You guys were serious?” Lavi raises his eyebrow. “Because I was serious when I said I couldn’t sail.”

“And Lenalee was serious when she said you can learn,” Allen replies, hopeful. “We’ve got a coach, she’ll teach you. It’ll be…cool, right?”

“Well,” Lavi scratches his cheek. “I got to admit that I know jack about sailing, but I guess it’s gotta be more exciting than the literary club. Though, I gotta warn you I have no cash to spare whatsoever. I’ve heard that sailing is expensive, I’m definitely not going to buy a boat and—“

“It doesn’t matter! The school will cover it,” Allen enthuses. “You’ll just need the basics like gloves and booties. You don’t have to get them yet, only if you’re joining for real. And maybe a lifejacket, but I guess you can borrow that off the centre. The school owns a few boats, we’ll all be using those for school trainings anyway.”

“Hmm. And you say I can be on the team?”

“Yes! Definitely!”

“…What’s the catch?”

Allen laughs, almost nervously. “Nothing! We’re just…short on members. A school can typically send ten sailors for inter-schools but we don’t that many.”

“I see,” Lavi hums again, and Allen decides that he needs to bring out the big guns.

“Why don’t you just try for one session? No obligation to stay if you don’t like it. Please? It’ll be fun!”

“Woah, don’t use those eyes on me, Brit,” Lavi laughs. “But yeah, I guess it does sound pretty cool. How often do you guys train? And where?”

“Twice a week, at the National Sailing Centre in East Coast. It’s not too much, right? I mean, the canoeing team trains four times a week,” Allen bargains. “Please! I’m _not_ going to lose to that jerkface,” he mutters.

“Lose?”

“Kanda will treat us _both_ to a free meal if you agree to join,” Allen grins, and Lenalee hides her chuckle.

Lavi chuckles. “Hmm...you’re close to Yuu?”

The mention of Kanda’s first name throws Allen and Lenalee off guard so much that both of them blink rapidly for at least a minute.

“I wouldn’t say close,” Allen starts slowly, looking over at Lenalee. It’s not wrong to use Kanda’s first name but the only people who do it are teachers, and even then most teachers relent to use Kanda’s last name because of his _insistent_ preference. “But I’ve known him for quite a couple of years, unfortunately. Lenalee has known him for…”

“Even longer,” she smiles. “Why?”

“No reason,” Lavi matches her smile. “All right, all right, I guess there’s no harm trying,” he accedes. “I’ve got nothing to do now anyway.”

Allen smile sincerely. “This means a lot to me, Lavi. And to Kanda, even if the jerk will never admit it. You’ll love it. I promise.”

* * *

Try sailing, they said.

It’ll be fun, they said.

Lavi is a top student—has always been a top student, no matter which school he has been in. It’s partly due to his eidetic memory and partly due to his awesome personality. It’s also the reason why he doesn’t really need to study as much as to do a simple read through of the text. The rest that requires ‘critical thinking’, he basically bullshits on the exam day. Hence he has a lot of free time, the first year of which is spent typing in boring articles for the literary society. He doesn’t even know why he joined it—his society mates were cool and he had a reason to read the entire library collection after school, but once done, it was just too boring for his tastes.

He had thought of changing clubs somewhere in the end of his first year, but as he told Lenalee—sports were a hassle, and so were performing arts. He doesn’t have the kind of skills that the team members already have, trained for years in their previous schools. They won’t grant him anything but a line of ‘member of’ in his graduation certificate, so he might as well be stuck as a ‘member of the literary society’.

Maybe he should’ve joined the student council, but he had heard rumours of the kind of work that they were expected to do. Lavi isn’t exactly a work committed guy.

And so he finds himself in a taxi the next week with Mr Mikk, Allen Walker and Kanda Yuu. It’s then he learns that Kanda and Allen are literally the only members of the sport team, which is weird, because most sport clubs are overflowing with members. But he guesses it’s got to do with the nature of the sea sport—it’s pretty niche, Lavi must admit that the only sailors he knows are Allen and Kanda. And it’s not like he really knows Kanda either.

Because Lavi never forgets—he can’t—he’s actually seen Kanda around the school plenty of times. The oriental pretty face and long hair on a guy makes it hard not to ignore. Always at a secluded corner, something reading some novel, sometimes lying on the bench napping. Last year Lavi has seen Kanda sitting with two seniors, a large stocky teen with headphones, and another always with a grin and hoodie, but they’ve graduated with the year above. He’s seen them on stage too, when they gave the principal a trophy for coming in second in the sailing inter-schools last year. He remembers the announcement that Kanda was first in place overall and he had wondered why the other’s complexion was so pale if the other was a sailor.

It was just one of the many things that he started to wonder.

The mystery of Kanda Yuu makes Lavi want to know him, but in the fifteen minutes in the taxi Lavi has already learnt that Kanda doesn’t _want_ to be known.

Kanda strides in front of them with his quick steps after they get out of the taxi, and Lavi looks at the building in front of him. It’s more like an open air structure, cement and concrete. A reception sits behind a glass door, while the corridor to the left bleeds into an open covered space. _National Sailing Centre_ reads in big red font above.

“All right boys, go change—I’ll have a talk with your coach,” Tyki shooes them, hands in his pockets as he saunters off.

Allen beckons for Lavi to follow him and they enter the toilets—the thick smell of salt and sea and chlorine makes his nose twitch. Kanda is already at a corner, school bag and another bag hung on the metal handles above wooden platforms. Allen goes over and puts his things beside the other, rummaging for his change of clothes, and Lavi obediently does the same. The younger cradles whatever he needs and disappears down a corridor. As Lavi picks out the outfits he’s brought—an old shirt and beach berms which is what Allen suggested—out of the corner of his eye, he sees Kanda unbutton his school shirt and yank it off his shoulders.

“What the fuck are you staring at?” Kanda snaps immediately at him, and Lavi takes an unconscious step back.

Kanda is even paler under his shirt, like milk—Lavi doesn’t _understand_ how. But then again, Allen is also just as pale. Huh.

“What brand of sunblock do you use?” is what he ends up asking.

Kanda actually looks at him in bewilderment before it twists back into its customary scowl. “I don’t,” he states before turning on his heel, bare bodied and clutching a bundle of fabric in his arm, disappearing into the same corridor that Allen went.

Lavi shrugs and goes off to change. When he comes back, only Allen is waiting for him. He lets himself be led out. The beach is nearby with the sound of crashing waves, but Lavi lets his curious eye linger on the boats lined on the hot stone ground further out. They are empty boats with no sails, sections organised with boats of different sizes and colours. The hard sand sticks to his feet as they walk and come to a small sheltered area with benches and a whiteboard on the side.

Tyki and a short woman turn to face them as they arrive. She has a hard look about her despite her petite frame, and light brown hair that seemed twisted by salt and sea. A whistle hangs around her neck.

“This kid? _Seven months_?” she raises an eyebrow, tone coarser than most men Lavi has met. “Fucking impossible. Oh boy,” she shakes her head.

“But you can do it, can’t you?” Tyki says, and she huffs. “Meaningless question though, because you don’t really have a choice.”

The woman flashes him her teeth.

Tyki shrugs then, seemingly placated. “Good luck,” he waves in passing to Lavi as he saunters off, a novel under his armpit.

“So you made it to this school, huh,” she grins at Allen as they approach. “I’m impressed.”

“Of course,” Allen sniffs, crossing his arms. “I didn’t cheat, unlike Kanda.”

The lady coach grins wider. “Whatever, shorty. Go get your boat rigged. Pretty boy is already on his.”

“I’m not that short!” Allen huffs in return, but he does obediently turn on his heel to disappear off.

“Red!” she barks, snapping her fingers. “Move your damn ass to the bench.”

“Um, okay,” Lavi does so slightly wary. “I’m Lavi—“

“So I’ve been told a million times by Mikk,” she sighs, annoyed. “I don’t care. I’m Fou, and I’m your damn coach. I have two rules: one, you kids have a brain, use it. Don’t do anything stupid. Two, if you have a legit fucking question, open your damn golden mouth. Clear?”

“Crystal,” Lavi nods curtly, slightly intimidated.

“Good,” Fou nods, seemingly satisfied. “So, you have seven fucking months of this joy ride, I hope you don’t regret it,” she smirks. “But enough chit chat. What’s this?” she jabs at a marker drawing on the white board.

It’s a boat, Lavi can tell that much. “Uh…a boat?”

Fou rolls her eyes passionately. “Yeah, I’m not fucking blind. What type of boat is it?”

“Um. Uh…” he fumbles.

Fou sighs, not bothering to wait for his pathetic attempt to guess. “It’s a byte. This is what you’re gonna sail, unlucky you,” she grins, looking not at all apologetic. “Normally, we start beginners out on an optimist, but you’re too old for that. Maybe a laser pico. Hmm, whatever,” she jabs at the board again. “First off: do you know _anything_ about sailing?”

A shake of the head. It’s better to be honest with this lady, Lavi thinks.

“What about parts of the boat?”

“Well, uh, left is port,” Lavi thinks. “And right is starboard.”

“At least you know better than shit,” Fou nods, moving her pointer to a different part of the drawing.

“Sail,” Lavi names as her finger moves. “…Mast?” Another nod and another point. “…I don’t think I know any more.”

“I hate repeating myself, so listen carefully,” she warns. “This is the boom,” she points to the beam fixated below the sail, and then moves it further down to point to a rope attaching the bottom of the mast to the boom. “Kicker. It keeps your sail down.” Another jab to the front of the boat. “Hull. Daggerboard,” she taps a rectangle drawn in the front portion of the boat that sticks out through the bottom of the boat. “This keeps your boat from drifting with the current. Mainsheet,” she circles the ropes attaching the sail to the boat. “Stern, and rudder. Got it?”

“Yeah.”

Fou looks at him for a moment before smirking. “Test time,” she says, and peeks out from the shelter to a figure in the distance. “Pretty boy, get the fuck over here!”

Lavi stares, curious as Kanda drags his rigged boat to where they are as it sits on a cart, scowling darker than ever. “What?”

Fou thumbs a contraception behind her, a black curved frame on a rotating base. “Get it over there. Red, what are you sitting on your ass for? Get to the other side of the boat!”

Lavi hastens to comply, and puts his hands on the side of the boat.

“Hold it properly, idiot!” Kanda snaps at him, and Lavi grasps the side with his fingers, and together they heave it over to sit on top of the frame.

Lavi hasn’t seen a rigged sailing boat before—or a byte, as Fou called it. It feels much larger up close, with its orange lined sail towering high. Numerous ropes keep the sail in place with a seemingly complicated system. The inside of the light blue boat is shallow, divided into the front and back. In the middle of the back portion is where two black straps run vertically down, and a mess of ropes lie in it, attached to the boom.

Fou snaps a finger at him to get his attention.  “Alright, Red. What’s this?”

She starts off simple, and Lavi recites the names the parts of the boat with ease. It’s no real mystery why academics is easy for him—he remembers things far too simply, it’s almost like doing a multiple choice test with the answers shaded.

“Boom.”

“Stern.”

“Rudder.”

“Kicker.”

“Daggerboard.”

“Hn,” Fou nods slowly before pointing to a small thread stuck to the middle portion of sail. “This?”

“It wasn’t on the drawing,” he states confidently.

“Oh yeah?”

“I remember.”

“Sharp. You’ll need it,” Fou grins. “These are tell tails. They tell you how much you should trim the sails according to the direction of the wind. When it’s parallel, you’ve got it right,” she explains. “The ropes are important too. You’ll learn to rig, but for now, get in the damn boat.”

Lavi blinks, and vaguely he notes that Kanda has disappeared before his mini test had begun. Because Fou is just waiting impatiently, he clambers into the boat awkwardly and awaits further instructions. She practically manhandles him to sit on the side of the boat.

“Grasp the main sheet,” she orders, and he grasps the bunch of rope hanging in front of him. “The end of it,” she rolls her eyes, flinging the end of the rope knotted with a figure of eight, and he scrambles to catch it. “Hold it with your knuckles up. Good. Now, pull it in towards with you with both your hands, one at a time. Palms down, I said!” she barks sharply. “See here—when you sheet in, it pulls the sail towards you. Get it? It’s called trimming. You hold it in position when you sail. And now let it go.”

Lavi promptly drops the rope, which earns him a smack to the head. “You said to let it go!”

“I didn’t say to fucking drop it!” Fou hisses. “Don’t you _ever_ let go of the main sheet—you’ll lose control of your boat. Ease it out!” she commands, demonstrating by loosening her fingers. “This lets out the sail,” as she says this, she pulls back the boom, showing its stretch. “Now grab the rudder.”

Awkward fumbling occurs as Lavi tries to handle the rope and the rudder handle in his hand, until Fou sighs irritatedly and moves his hands around to hold them properly.

“Always hold it with your palm on top. There. Both hands should be able to sit comfortably on your lap. Watch here,” she orders, placing a hand on the rudder handle. “Push the rudder handle forward.”

Lavi does so, and watches the rudder swing to a side.

“Point,” Fou recites as she makes him do the action again, and then motions for him to push the rudder handle backward. “Bear away. Repeat.”

“Point, and bear away,” Lavi nods.

“When you point,” she explains. “The boat will turn in the direction coming towards you. If you’re sitting on port, the boat will turn to the left, and vice versa. When you bear away, the boat will turn away from you. Got it?”

“Yeah.”

“Final point: when you turn the boat, changing directions and all that, the wind direction with respect to your boat will change, which means you have to switch sides,” Fou runs a hand along the side of the boat to the hull, where she turns the boat 90 degrees to the left.

As she does this, the sail flips over to the right, nearly banging Lavi’s head in the process. “This is where you duck, and switch sides,” she gestures. “It’s called a ‘tack over’, or ‘tacking’, whatever. Note your grip on the rudder and mainsheet—you have to switch your hands over.”

Just as she says this, Lavi notices that he’s holding them in an extremely uncomfortable position, and gets a hard prod to the back of his head.

“Again. Switch it behind your back,” Fou demonstrates. “I said don’t let go of the main sheet! Again!”

Lavi sighs and clambers over to the other side just as the boom comes swinging towards his face, trying not to trip on the black straps in the boat.

“Faster!”

The boat swivels again with no warning, and he yelps, but at least he does manage to switch his grip the right way this time.

“Hn, remember to keep your palms down,” Fou narrows her eyes. “So far so good?”

“I guess. Seems easy enough,” Lavi shrugs, and she barks a rough laugh.

“Ha,” she smirks, but doesn’t say anything more.

Her eyes travel to smaller figure pulling a rigged boat by a trolley towards them, sail flapping with the wind. Lavi squints, and sees that Allen is smiling widely wearing something over his long sleeved water suit. It’s like padding—almost like black armour that moulds around his thighs and the criss cross straps hang loosely at his waist.

“This?” Allen cocks his head when Lavi stares at his outfit curiously. “It’s hiking gear.”

“Hiking?”

“It’s when you sit out of the boat to balance it.”

“Sit out?

Fou sighs. “I forgot about that. See the straps, Red?” Lavi looks back at the black straps in the boat that was more of a tripping obstacle when he tried to cross over the boat. “If the wind is strong, you hook your feet underneath and hang your ass out of the boat. Well, you’ll see,” she shrugs. “Where the hell is pretty boy?” she scowls. “It’s already three—you boys have less than three hours on the water.”

“You don’t have to be so loud, woman,” Kanda snaps just as he walks to where they are, also decked in a similar armoured outfit like Allen.

It sticks to his fit physique more than it should, Lavi thinks.

“Shut up, kid, what, were you putting on make-up?” Fou huffs. “Alright boys. We’ll just do a simple triangle course today, because I’m so nice,” she grins. “I’ll place a buoy in the direction of the wind. Leeward down, then a reach across.”

“Leeward?” Lavi frowns at the jargon. “Reach?”

Fou sighs and sketches out a quick drawing on the whiteboard. “When you’re coming down and the wind is behind you, you let your sail fully out—this is leeward. When you reach the buoy at the bottom, you gotta go across, see? A 90 degree turn. Here, sheet in, keep your sail half way out. This is a reach. You’ll watch and you’ll learn. Sit with the pretty boy,” she states finally. “Let’s move out!”

“What?” Kanda snarls immediately. “Why me? Make him sit with the beansprout!”

“Quit bitching or I’ll tell your dad,” Fou waves her hand, already walking off.

“He’s not my fucking dad—and do I look like I fucking care?”

“Wait—” Lavi pauses. “I’m gonna sail? Now?”

“What, were you waiting for Christmas?” Fou raises an eyebrow. “Move it, boys!”

* * *

Tyki stands on the sandy beach as he watches his students struggle in the water with their boats. Or rather, Lavi is the one struggling as he tries to hold the boats still so that the other two sailors can affix their rudders to the boats.

“Hold the damn boat still, you useless rabbit!” Kanda’s annoyed snap rings loud and clear, and Lavi growls under his breath.

“I’m trying to!”

The waves are crashing pretty hard on the beach, which keep making the boats rock up and down. A triumphant click tells Lavi that Allen has successfully locked his in.

“Thanks, Lavi,” Allen smiles, pushing himself easily up onto his boat.

With a slide of his daggerboard down into its appropriate place, Allen sits back and pulls his mainsheet in, catching the wind and steering his boat out from the bay. Lavi watches the boat pick up speed, sailing into the distance.

“Oi! What are you looking at?” Kanda barks at him, apparently all done with the rudder. “Get in the damn boat before we get pushed to shore.”

It is a lot harder to get up then Allen makes it seem, the salty water clinging to his pants making them heavy. He does get into the boat, although clumsy, and Kanda waves his hand to make him sit in the front with the daggerboard. Within a second Kanda himself is on the boat, seated at the back—hands move quick to push the daggerboard down and to handle the mainsheet and rudder—and they’re off.

Tyki waves at them from shore.

There is only the sound of the waves hitting the hull of the boat as they move, and the slosh of water against the side of their boat. The wind blow against their faces and Lavi looks out in wonder to the vast stretch of the sea. It feels a bit uncomfortable with gloves on his hands and a lifejacket strapped to his frame, but Kanda in contrast looks at total ease, lips pressed into a concentrated line as his eyes look out far ahead. Fou is in a speedboat further out with Allen close to her. Lavi peers over the edge of the boat and gingerly reaches out, skimming the top of the water with his fingertips. It’s cool against his sweaty palm, and he would touch it more, except the angle of their boat suddenly changes and the sail comes much closer in. Lavi grabs the daggerboard to steady himself, but he’s almost stunned at the way Kanda’s hands are tightly gripping the main sheet taunt, feet hooked under the black straps with his whole torso out of the boat, ponytail whipping fiercely behind him. The boat cuts through the surface of the water like the wind, fast and silent, and before he knows it, they’re beside Allen who is waiting for them.

“The starting line is from here to the buoy,” Fou shouts at them over the water. “One round. Red, watch what pretty boy does. It’ll be your turn after. Count down is thirty seconds!”

Almost immediately hands on the sailing boat move to get ready—Kanda steers his boat back down before he dips his boat up to the line, and Allen does the same.

“Twenty seconds!”

The current is pretty strong today, and Allen gets pushed over the invisible starting line. With a sigh the white haired boy sighs and rounds his boat around the buoy to get back into position. Seconds tick by.

“Ten seconds!”

The current is unrelenting and Kanda judges that it’s better to round the buoy as well. He points his rudder and he makes to cross over, except, Lavi yelps when the sail comes crashing into his face.

“What the fuck?” Kanda shouts, whole body dangling out of the boat in order to keep it balanced with the uneven weight distribution. “Get to this side, you asshole!”

Allen roars with laughter a few paces away.

“Five. Four. Three—“

“Okay, okay, wait—“ Lavi scrambles, catching the other side and pushing himself over.

The boat crashes down with the weight shift, and Kanda is too agitated by the sound of Fou’s whistle signalling the start to care. He yanks the main sheet and steers the boat up, but unfortunately catches dirty wind with Allen’s sail and lags behind.

“Fuck you,” Kanda mutters as Allen gives them a jaunty wave.

Without warning Kanda tacks over and this time, the boom whacks Lavi right on the mouth and he crashes into the water, grabbing the sail along with him. When he surfaces thanks to the lifejacket, he winces at the pain on his lip, uselessly wadding. The boat has toppled half over towards him, and he sucks in a breath—Kanda was sure to kill him for this—but before the thought finishes, the boat is abruptly uprighted with water dripping off its sail.

Lavi just blinks.

“Quit dwaddling and get in the fucking boat!” Kanda yells at him from inside the boat, and Lavi blinks again.

“Right,” the redhead coughs, forcing himself to grasp the side of the boat.

Getting up into the boat is _a lot_ harder than it looks—in the end, Kanda grabs him by the back of his lifevest and hauls him in roughly.

“When I tack, you fucking shove over, understand?” Kanda grinds out, expression dark. “Keep your damn eyes on me.”

“Yes. Okay.” He nods hurriedly.

Kanda sighs and glares at Allen’s boat in the distance. He gets the boat moving in no time, concentrated focus creasing a line into his forehead as the boat surges on, faster and faster. Water swim at their ankles due to their capsizing accident, and Kanda absentmindedly flicks a black lock at the bottom of the boat to open a hole to drain the water out. He flicks it shut when it’s done, shifting his boat weight forward to push the boat on.

They are moving fast, and Lavi watches keenly for the change in directions—he’s definitely a lot slower than Kanda is in moving across the boat, but he starts to anticipate the small twitch in the arm muscle that predicts the movement. Kanda’s eyes flicker from the tell tails to the buoy in the distance to the waters around—it seems like the sailor is constantly calculating the fastest possible route and factors into his steering. Within minutes they reach the buoy at the top and Kanda kneels into the boat, loosening his grip to let his sail out just as he bears away.

The movement is so smooth that it catches Lavi off guard when a wave comes up from behind them and bumps the boat forward—and Lavi slips off the edge and crashes into the water. He splutters when he resurfaces and sees Kanda’s boat going forward, fast becoming tiny.

Fou’s whistle goes up shrill in the air and Kanda grits his teeth before turning his boat around. He’s looking more murderous the second time he yanks the redhead on the boat. Honestly he doesn’t have high hopes for this guy that Allen has chosen—whoever’s stupid enough to join them clearly can’t be worthy of high hopes—but he didn’t think that having a non-sailor in his boat was such a chore. He snaps at Lavi this much, and the redhead visibly looks taken aback and clenches his jaw, though the other keeps it firmly shut.

Huh. Maybe the redhead would finally realise what a waste his time was being spent.

The rest of the course is silent between them as Kanda sails them back to the starting point, where only Fou is waiting for them. Allen’s boat seems somewhere up the distance.

“Switch over, boys.”

“I want to get out,” Kanda states, but Fou rolls her eyes.

“Stay here and help him.”

“He’s fucking useless—“

“Of course he is, so fucking guide him.” Fou snorts. “Red, ready?”

Lavi sucks in a breath. “No.”

“Too bad. Watch your sail,” she orders, and Lavi watches the sail flap in the wind. “It’s luffing. This means that you’re pointing the boat in the direction of the wind. Effectively, it’s when you want to stop, but of course there’s the waves and current and shit, so you gotta watch that. Anyway,” she shrugs. “You want to reach that buoy, yes?”

Lavi squints at the little red dot bobbing in the distance.

“It’s directly up north from when the wind is coming from, so you can’t sail straight up. We call this area the no-go zone. But you can however, sail at a 40 to 45 degree angle. You saw what pretty boy did just now?”

Lavi glances over at Kanda who looks like he’s not listening, staring at the sky, bored. “Yeah, he did a zig zag route up.”

“Great. Do the same.”

“Uh, okay…” Lavi blinks, fumbling with the ropes.

“Bear away to get some wind in your sails,” Fou instructs, and Lavi hastens to comply, until Kanda snaps at him.

“Hold the fucking main sheet!”

“R-right—”

“Bear away more, you fucking—sheet in! Now point! I said sheet in, you fucking idiot! And _point_!”

“Point at what?” Lavi blinks, jerking forward when wind catches onto the sail, and Lavi immediately grips his palms tight to hold the rope in place.

“Point the fucking—“

Kanda stops in his mid yell because Lavi abruptly slips forward from the force of the wind tipping the boat over, causing the boat to capsize over. Kanda curses as he’s caught dangling from the side of the boat that’s above the water—he had reflexively tried to keep the boat balanced, but his weight in the front wasn’t enough. With a growl he lets himself drop into the sea, scowling darkly.

“I’m not righting the damn boat,” he states.

Fou comes up near them but keeps a distance away. “Red, get up on the daggerboard!”

The piece of fiberglass sticks out from the belly of the boat like a knife. Lavi blinks. “How?”

“Climb it from the hull. Pretty boy, just show him how to,” Fou commands, clicking her tongue. “Or you can stay in the damn water until he figures it out.”

Kanda growls and swims towards the front of the boat, muttering under his breath. First he grasps the side of the boat out of the water and then he uses the other side submerged in water to place his feet. With three edges to the middle he reaches the daggerboard and steps on it, yanking the boat back up.

Water flickers onto Lavi’s face.

Kanda doesn’t bother to help him up the boat this time, and Lavi breathes heavily when he finally pulls himself on board. The salt water is bitter in his mouth.

“Sit forward. Sheet in. Palms down,” Fou recites.

Lavi keeps the rudder straight as the sail catches wind and they start moving.

“Sheet in more,” Kanda mutters. “Sit out, the boat is tipping.”

Lavi feels the balance of the boat shift as the boat picks up speed and he tries to imitate what he saw Kanda did earlier, except he can’t trust his feet to hold his entire body weight out of the boat. The boat tips more and Kanda glares at him.

“Sheet in,” Kanda commands, voice dark. “And hike out more. I said _more_.”

Lavi feels like he’s going to fall out of the boat as his abdominal muscles tighten to keep him in position. Water spits to his cheek as the boat crashes into the incoming waves.

“Tack.”

Lavi grips the rudder handle tighter.

“You’re going off the damn course! Tack!” Kanda orders, and Lavi sees that the buoy he’s supposed to be heading towards to is behind him now.

Lavi points the rudder, and the boom swings violently in their direction.  “Fu—“ the curse dies on Lavi’s lips as he’s only halfway ducking to the other side, and the boat flips over with the momentum. Ugh, salt water is fast becoming a nasty thing to swallow.

The capsized boat floats in the sea as Kanda flicks his wet bangs out of his face in the water.

* * *

“I’m really sorry! I…I—“ Lavi trails off as Kanda storms away from him pulling their boat in a trolley, anger radiating from his posture.

Allen stands next to him on the sand. “Don’t mind him, he’s just…embarrassed,” he snickers.

It’s been years since Allen has sailed with Kanda and it’s been years since either of them have gotten hit by the boom. It’s a normal occurrence for starting out sailors, and Lavi is a testament to that fact—the side of his lip is bruised and slightly swollen, but nothing a little ice and time wouldn’t handle. Allen had seen the disaster when Lavi was fumbling to keep his rudder still and accidently did a 360 turn which caused the boom to whack into Kanda’s face, throwing the pro sailor into the sea.

Lavi winces, knowing that it’s more than that—he’s at fault for marring such a beautiful face, but he doesn’t think he can get those words out and not dig his grave deeper. He’s dead tired to be honest—he only made it to the buoy before Fou had signalled for them to get back to the shore, not without capsizing a million times in between.

It’s depressing when he can’t even tack properly—he’s much too slow on the boat, tripping over the hiking straps or getting his hands tangled when he has to switch grips. 

Sailing is _a lot_ fucking harder than he anticipated.

It’ll be fun—who said?

“Lavi,” Allen places a hand on his shoulder. “You okay?”

“Hmm? Yeah.”

“So,” the white haired boy smiles. “How did you find it? Wasn’t it fun?”

“It was…interesting,” Lavi replies after a while. “But I guess…I don’t think I’m cut out for sailing,” he answers truthfully, stripping off his lifejacket.

“Nonsense,” Allen frowns. “You were great.”

“Did you even see me out there?” Lavi raises an eyebrow.

Allen laughs. “Capsizing is totally normal—I remember when I first switched to the byte, it wasn’t pretty,” he shakes his head at the memory. “Never again. Today was your first ever lesson and you’re starting off in a byte. It’s one of the most unstable dingys ever. Don’t beat yourself up over a couple of capsizes.”

“A couple?” Lavi blinks. “More like _fifty_. I can’t even tack—the wind is just too strong, I’m not fast enough—how the hell do you do it?”

“I’ve been sailing for _years_ , Lavi,” Allen gives him a pointed look. “Kanda too.”

Kanda is already back at the centre spraying his boat with water to wash the sails. Allen grasps his boat trolley and slowly both of them start to make it back to the centre, feet dirty with the sand.

“Besides, we compete internationally,” Allen says as they walk. “You can’t compare your first lesson to us.”

“You guys are _what_?” Lavi coughs, eye wide. “I mean, I knew you guys were sailors but _international pro sailors_?”

“Um, we have been sailing for years?” Allen repeats weakly. “What does it matter?”

Lavi narrows his eye incredulously. “You don’t need me on the team.”

Before Allen can answer, Fou’s whistle rings through the air. “Debrief!” she yells, and Allen leaves his boat behind Kanda’s before they join the two person circle a few steps away.

“Actually I have nothing for you two—today was just a warm up,” she eyes the more matured sailors. “Go wash the damn boats. Red, stay.”

Kanda scoffs and glares at Lavi, a yellow bruise clouding on his right cheek, before he turns heel to his boat. Allen smiles encouragingly and claps a hand on Lavi’s shoulder as he too, heads towards his boat.

“You were fucking terrible,” Fou begins bluntly, and Lavi swallows. “But everyone is on their first try. If you want to get up to speed in seven months, we definitely have to schedule more trainings, at least until you get the basics down. And work on your upper body strength,” she grins. “You’re gonna need it if you keep capsizing like that.”

“R-right.”

Fou barks a laugh and slaps his back before retreating off. “Good luck with the fucking muscle ache tomorrow.”

Lavi rubs the area that blossoms with sharp pain, sighing. Now that’s he’s on land, his feet feels a bit wobbly on the steady ground. He wonders how the other two are so calm without a sweat from what he’s just experienced—Allen isn’t even wet, having no reason to touch the sea.

Pro sailors, huh.

“Hey, Yuu, I’m really sorry about—“

“Don’t fucking call me by my first name,” Kanda immediately hisses, eyes blazing.

Lavi steps back, learning that pretty faces come with not so pretty attitudes.

“Okay,” he nods slowly. “I’m just saying I didn’t mean to hit you with the boom. It won’t happen again.”

Kanda snorts. “Because you’re going to fucking quit.”

“Kanda!” Allen interjects once the sentence is spat out, frowning. “Would it kill you, for _once_ , to just—“

“What?” Kanda sneers, hands gripping the handle of his boat trolley. “He’s planning to quit—you can see it on his face. I told you fucking so, beansprout. I’m not buying your damn lunch.”

Allen shouts after Kanda, but Lavi numbly watches the long haired sailor trudge away, figure mostly hidden by his boat.

“Lavi? Ignore what Kanda said,” Allen peers at him. “He’s always like that, the jerk. You’ll come for the next training, right?”

Lavi rubs the back of his neck, and that’s when Allen stills.

“Right?”


	2. Chapter 2

Every morning his uncle dumps a glass of cold water on him because it is by experience that Lavi isn’t the easiest person to wake at six thirty in the morning. He hates it but he has no arguments against its efficacy, because he jolts straight out of bed with a yelp each time, from where Bookman can kick him to the toilet to get changed.

This time, however, he has a lot of arguments with the fucking _pain_ in his muscles.

“Oh my god,” he whimpers on the floor in a fetal position, sore muscles protesting.

“Idiot,” Bookman nudges him by his foot. “Change up. We’re leaving in thirty minutes.”

Lavi groans groggily and hobbles himself to the bathroom to brush his teeth—and winces at the pull on his biceps when he stretches his arms out to take the toothpaste. Blearily he notices that the swell on his lip has gone down with the ice he applied yesterday, but it’s still slightly bruised. Are sports supposed to inflict this much bodily harm?

Lavi would like to think himself decent at most sports at the recreational level; he’s relatively good with basketball and tennis if he’d say so himself. But sailing. Huh. Sailing. Seems like the water sport had demanded use of plenty of muscles he hadn’t known existed, especially his forearms and fingers which felt like they were in a constant numb but strained state. It’s ridiculous because he’s just supposed to _sit_ in a boat, but oh yeah, there’s the capsizing.

A lot of capsizing.

Lavi sighs and shakes his head awake. Thankfully the next training—if he shows up—is a day after, so has the whole of today to really think this through.

Is he really going to put himself out there for this? Granted it was only his first session but to be honest, he had felt _terrible_ when he reached home and laid on his bed—the rocking motions of the sea had even followed him home.

There was fatigue like he never felt before. Also there was this teensy problem that he wasn’t _getting_ it. Allen and Kanda made it look so easy on the water but he still can’t tack properly, and if he couldn’t do that then it meant that he couldn’t sail, wasn’t it?

Maybe in short, Lavi isn’t used to not being good at something. He picks things up easily—too easily, and that’s why he finds himself bored of things quickly, but this time, not getting it is also not very appealing. How much effort does he have to put in to finally get it right? Is it worth the months to learn and then maybe he finds out that he’s really not adept to the sport—he has time to kill, but if he’s not enjoying killing the time, then, maybe, it’s not worth it.

But then he remembers Kanda’s sneer and ‘ _he’s going to quit—you can see it in his face’_ , the condescending tone and _disappointment_ and Lavi groans again.

Easy for Kanda to say, the guy has been sailing for years, hasn’t he?

“Lavi.”

“ _Lavi_.”

A sharp prod to his side makes him jump to attention, and Lavi whips his head to glare at the student beside him. “What?”

Howard Link, a fair long-haired plaited blond, looks pointedly at Lavi’s lecture notes and turns his gaze passively back to the lecturer in front. Lavi glances down at his notes and blanches, hastily cancelling out the name he had doodled several times on the paper while he was zoning out.

_~~Y u u  K a n d a~~ _

“I-it’s not what you think, I—“ he mumbles, but Link merely focuses his attention on their lecture and ignores his spluttered explanations.

Lavi huffs and tries to listen to the economics lecturer but honestly market power and market structure isn’t the most interesting thing in the world, not when Kanda on the other side of the lecture hall with his own class (but is unsurprisingly sitting alone in a row behind the rest), staring off and obviously not paying attention to the lesson either.

Another sharp prod jabs his ribs and Lavi clutches forward to hide the wince that came with the muscle strain when he jolted in reflex.

Link sighs and writes down the notes flashed on screen, but an amused small smile graces the edge of his lips.

* * *

“Legs off the table.”

Lavi pouts, but he does take his legs down, although slowly, because of the sore muscles.

“What do you want, Lavi?” Link sighs, setting down the folders he was carrying and sorting them into different piles on the desk.

He has no idea how Lavi just enters the student council room whenever he feels like it with no sense of shame even though the redhead is nowhere involved in student council activities.

“Why must you always assume that I want something?” Lavi sniffs. “I’m concerned for your well-being, prez. You didn’t get lunch, right Mr Workaholic? I got you a donut, I want my thanks.”

Link raises an eyebrow but takes the offered crinkled paper bag and peers inside. The said pastry is covered with rainbow chocolate rice, and he nods. “Thanks. But seriously, what do you want? You’re normally the first person out of the school gate if you don’t have to stay back.”

Lavi swirls in the roller chair he’s got himself seated in. “…I need advice.”

“I’d advise not to,” Link says without a heartbeat, and Lavi blinks.

“What?”

The blonde resumes packing his folders as he speaks. “Don’t chase after him. You’ll just get hurt.”

“…What are you talking about?” Lavi frowns. “I’m asking if you think I should continue to try sailing—what did you think I was talking about? Chase who?”

“The one you always stare at during lectures,” Link replies nonchalantly, taking a seat of his own and grabbing the donut when he’s done packing.

“…I don’t _always_ stare at him.”

“You sometimes, except for that one time he was absent, have stared at him,” Link agrees.

“Fuck you, prez,” Lavi mutters. “I’m just curious about him, okay? It’s not a big deal.”

“Curious enough to write his name all over your notes?”

“I-I told you that was an accident!”

Link’s eyebrows go up higher as he chews his late lunch (snack).

“I was just thinking of what he said to me yesterday and I—and anyway, why are we talking about Yuu?” he crosses his arms, swivelling in the chair once more. “I asked you if you think I should continue sailing.”

Link bites another mouthful and chews, taking his time to swallow. “Why are you asking me?” he says eventually. “It’s your choice as to what club you want to join.”

“Well yeah…but…” Lavi swivels in the chair again, and Link sighs.

“What’s stopping you?”

“It’s fucking hard,” the redhead answers truthfully, looking at the ceiling. “But it was only the first lesson, so…so maybe I just need time. Or something. It’s not fair that Yuu and Allen are great at it—I’m like a fetus compared to them. Or maybe even an egg. Sperm. Whatever,” he sighs. “I dunno. What if I’m just not cut out for it?”

“You do realise that in any sport or performing arts, there is a thing called _practice_?” Link replies, taking another bite. “No one gets it straight away. I understand that the concept might be foreign to you.”

Lavi shoves Link the finger, but neither really takes to heart—Lavi knows exactly what Link means, because there are little things in his life that his eidetic memory hasn’t helped him with.

“More importantly, did you like it?”

“Huh?”

“Did you like the sailing experience?” Link repeats calmly. “Did you like being in the boat?”

“I was barely _in_ the boat.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I…I don’t know,” Lavi murmurs. “I mean, I can…see how it can be fun, if I wasn’t fucking capsizing all the time.”

“Seems like you don’t really like it.”

“But—“

“So, why are you considering to continue then?” Link continues, now folding the empty paper bag into a little square. “You don’t need it for your CV.”

“Says who? I’m gonna be valedictorian, prez, not you,” Lavi smirks in challenge.

“Keep dreaming,” Link rolls his eyes. “You don’t need it for your CV,” he repeats. “And you’re obviously are not very keen on it—“

“Who says I’m not keen—“

“If Yuu Kanda wasn’t a sailor would you even be thinking about it?”

Lavi abruptly stops swivelling in the chair. “That was low.”

“But is it true?”

“Of course not!” Lavi protests, sour. “I’m not _stalking_ him or anything, why would it matter if Yuu was part of the team? I mean, he doesn’t even _want_ me there! It’s not like joining the club would get me closer to him or anything, he doesn’t talk to anyone except Allen and Lenalee and you know what?” he rants, clearly in his own world as Link watches on. “The first thing he said when Allen asked me to join was ‘no fucking way’ and then he said I was a waste of time because I was going to quit by the first training and ughhhhh—I’m _not_ going to give him any satisfaction that he was fucking right!“

Link shakes his head. “…Do you really want to suffer for a year just because you want to prove him wrong?”

“Yes,” Lavi huffs.

“…”

“What.”

“Nothing.”

* * *

So maybe it’s all worth it when he sees Kanda’s widened eyes that lasts for a split second before the surprised expression morphs back into its usual scowl when he meets the other and Allen at the foyer the next day.

“Lavi!” Allen smiles, bright. “I knew you’d come! That’s five bucks _and_ lunch, dear,” he winks to Kanda who growls and turns on his heel to avoid them both.

“Yeah, I thought I’d give it another go—or at least, until I’m sure I really suck at it,” he chuckles.

“You don’t need to stick around for that,” Kanda mutters, and Allen elbows the other sharply, ignoring the statement.

“Oh, you came,” Tyki strolls up to them causally with his backpack over his shoulder. “Good. Seems like the club will be safe. Let’s go, boys. The taxi is outside.”

“Safe?” Lavi blinks as he moves the others, Kanda’s long strides moving fast away with Allen hurrying after him, which leaves him to walk beside the literature teacher’s lazy steps.

“They didn’t tell you?” Tyki hums. “Allen came into my office five times yesterday to ask if you had told me if you wanted to quit. It was agitating for him, see, if the school shut the team down because they couldn’t get one more member.”

“Why would the school shut this club down? Didn’t you guys place second last year? And Yuu was first in the individual category, right? I thought the board would give more funding to the sports that do really well!”

“That is usually the case, but it would be a problem if the team couldn’t even _qualify_ to compete,” Tyki answers. “The three of you is the bare minimum.”

“Three?” Lavi echoes.

“Three,” Tyki nods, and gets into the front seat of the taxi.

Lavi slips into the passenger seat behind next to Allen whilst Kanda is on the other side, staring out of the window.

“…Wait. I’m like, _needed_?”

* * *

“I’m sorry! I should’ve told you but I really wanted you to see if you’d like sailing first!” Allen presses his palms together in apology.

“Don’t lie, bean, you just wanted to make him feel less of a used idiot,” Kanda puts in, and Allen throws his glare over.

“Hey, Kanda, ever heard of _shut up_?” Allen grinds out.

“…If you need me,” Lavi suddenly speaks up, confused. “Why are you not even trying to _want_ me in the team?”

“I don’t need you.”

“Yes, we _do_ need you,” Allen corrects immediately.

“No, we don’t.”

“Yes, we do!”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes—god, Kanda, you know we can’t compete if we don’t have Lavi!” Allen shouts.

“So what if we can fucking compete?” Kanda snarls back, jabbing a finger. “If the fucking idiot doesn’t get a good placing we can’t win any damn thing anyway!”

“How would you know Lavi can’t do it? He’s just started learning—“

“ _Precisely_ my fucking point, do you honestly think he can beat the creepy twins and shit? Because they already fucking suck and this fucking newbie won’t even touch their level by seven fucking months!”

“You’re just being unreasonable—“

“And you’re just being a damn fool—“

“Guys, I’m right here,” Lavi clears his throat.

At least Allen has the decency to look embarrassed, whereas Kanda just purses his lips.

“How do you know I can’t do it?” Lavi asks, hands on his hips. “How do you know I can’t be… _good_?”

Allen and Kanda blinks at the same time, but the expressions after that are pretty different. Allen beams, while Kanda’s scowl deepens.

“Seven months?” Kanda scoffs. “You’d have better luck making the beansprout diet.”

“Hey—“

“I think I can do it,” Lavi says stubbornly. “I’ll prove it to you.”

“You won’t.”

The assured way that Kanda states his opinion really makes Lavi want to tear things apart. “I will. And when I do, I want you to admit that you were wrong about me.”

“I’m not making a stupid bet with you.”

“What have you got to lose since you’re so confident that I can’t do it?” Lavi raises an eyebrow.

Kanda glowers, and when Allen flashes him a beginning of a snarky comment, he breathes out irritatedly. “…Fine.”

Lavi grins, vindicated for those few seconds until the sound of Fou’s shrill whistle slices the air.

“Let’s move out! Red, stick with pretty boy! Come on, the tide is falling!”

* * *

Lavi feels a hand rest on his shoulder and he yelps, nearly falling off swivel chair. But then that also makes him wince at the default ache that blossoms throughout his entire forearms—oh god, fuck.

Link snorts. “I didn’t say you could use this room to hang out.”

“You also didn’t say that I couldn’t,” Lavi counters, leaning back on the seat. “No one uses the council room besides you anyways, prez,” he grins. “I have no idea why though—the air con is fucking awesome. What’s up? Why are you so late today? It’s almost six.”

“The usual,” Link sighs, turning around to hunt for his bag that Lavi has unceremoniously dumped to the side when the other took over the chair. “Someone proposed to set up a kissing booth for Valentine’s day—Mr Lee wasn’t too keen on the idea.”

“Huh, it’s not like it’ll be Lenalee mending the booth.”

“Regardless,” Link shrugs. “What are you doing?” he asks right after, when he hauls his backpack over his shoulder and looks at the mess on the desk.

Scattered around are pieces of coloured rope that are tied in various ways.

“Pretty cool, right?” Lavi grins, flicking one over. “I gotta learn different knots to rig the boat, so I got some to practice on. Figure of eight. It’s literally an eight, see, so that’s easy.”

“And that?”

“That’s the bowline—it’s the hardest one so far, but it’s awesome, I didn’t know it’s the same type of knot you’d tie around yourself when you want to be hauled out of somewhere. I think I’ve got it down, anyhow. I’ll show Yuu next week,” Lavi murmurs. “So what if I can’t properly sail yet? I’ll rig the damn boat at the very least.”

Link raises his eyebrows but doesn’t want to comment on the apparent second sailing session, because Lavi makes this sour look and goes on a rant about his aching muscles and somehow there’d be an inevitable dialogue which ends up to Yuu Kanda hating him or something because of the multiple capsizes.

“…Are you trying to impress him?”

“ _No_ ,” Lavi says immediately, frowning. “Where did that come from? Why must you make everything about Yuu sound so…so _suggestive_?”

“I don’t.”

“You do!” he accuses. “I’m _not_ trying to impress Yuu—I don’t want to…to…d-date him or anything, I just think he’s…very… _fascinating_ , okay?”

“Okay.”

“And being fascinating doesn’t excuse him for being a dick, I mean, seriously, so what if I suck now, I won’t suck _later_ …I hope.”

“You don’t have to do this, you know.”

“No, I totally do.”

“Sure.”

* * *

By the fourth training Lavi thinks his muscles are somewhat getting used to the exertion—and he is actually a lot faster in uprighting the capsized boat. Which is good, because the longer he fumbles in the water the darker Kanda glares at him while the other floats with his lifejacket, unwilling to help out. But that is all fine—Lavi is gonna be a master pro at this, just wait and see.

He doesn’t even wait for Kanda’s bark to tell him to bear away and sheet in to get the boat moving once more—sit forward, palms down, hike out, watch the tell tails, keep an eye on the buoy, watch the current, watch the angle of the boom—he makes the boat move without too much hassle, although he struggles with keeping the mainsheet between his fingers. The strength of fucking wind is nightmare to fight against.

Allen’s boat is way ahead of him and he doesn’t bother about it, concentrating on his own movements. At the corner of his eye Kanda sits against the daggerboard, bored.

“Tack.”

“But I can make it to the buoy—“

“You won’t round it. The current is too strong. Tack.”

But from Lavi’s line of sight he is heading directly straight to the buoy, so he keeps on going, despite the irritated sigh that comes from Kanda. True enough when he’s right at the floating blue balloon, he tries to point the rudder to get the boat to around the buoy, but ends up shifting the boat directly into the direction of the wind, and the boat stalls.

“Shit.”

“I told you to tack, you fucking idiot,” Kanda mutters, cheek on his palm. “Bear away—what the fuck are you trying to do?”

“It’s stuck,” Lavi frowns, trying to push the rudder backwards.

With another terrible sigh Kanda gets to his knees and slides the dagger board up. With a few up and down movements he presumably releases the tangle that the buoy’s anchor rope had wrapped around the daggerboard, and Lavi steers the boat to round the balloon. Except, he’s too late in grasping the main sheet as the wind hits the sails, causing the boat to lurch forward.

“Fucking—shit—don’t drop your fucking main sheet!” Kanda yells as water rushes in front the front, and Kanda scrambles towards the back of the boat to balance it before they capsize again.

“Sorry!” he shouts back, yanking the rope, but that causes the sail to jerk towards them with the motion, and since they are on leeward, the sail flips over to the other side in the process and jerks forward again.

“Fuck—get to the other—“

This time neither of them manage to balance out sudden weight of the sail on the port of the boat.

Ugh, salt water.

Allen sails past them, giving them a jaunty wave.

* * *

“I might not have completely told you the truth when I said we have trainings twice a week,” Allen begins when he bashfully comes over to the table where Lavi is during a break, and Lavi crosses his arms, unimpressed. “I didn’t lie—technically—we only do have water trainings twice a week, but uh, um…”

Lavi keeps the stern look for about twenty seconds more before he cracks and laughs. “Dude, I said I was in this, right? I wouldn’t actually mind if there were more trainings, I’d probably be able to prove Yuu wrong faster,” he muses, wringing his shoulder back. “But I don’t know if my body can take the abuse.”

Allen relaxes visibly. “Well. Actually, it’s about that. We have water trainings, and we also have physical training. On land. At the school gym. Once a week, Fridays.”

“Today is Friday.”

“Yeah…I was hoping you’d come? If you can’t, then join us from next week. Kanda ends his lessons at one, and I usually come in after two—just a workout for a couple of hours, it’ll really help with your upper body strength.”

Lavi wrings his shoulder back again and winces. “Yeah, that sounds reasonable. You’re just lucky I have nothing to do after school,” he chuckles. “I don’t mind joining you guys for today, but I don’t have a t-shirt or shorts, though—“

“Doesn’t matter, Kanda will lend you his, he has plenty of spares,” Allen smiles widely, head whipping up when Lenalee calls his name in the distance. “Sorry, I’ve got to dash for my next class, it’s on the fourth floor. I’ll see you later!”

 “…Lend me his…?” Lavi mumbles to himself as Allen leaves, skeptical.

Link finishes up his drink beside him and places the cup on the table.

“Don’t say it,” Lavi says immediately.

“I didn’t say anything.”

* * *

Physical training makes a lot of sense, actually. Fou had told him to work on his upper body strength and his abs were starting to get sore on the days he had to hike out. It wasn’t like he was unfit or anything from the start, it’s just, he does have a lanky body which means that his arm muscles has to be able to support more weight then let’s say, Kanda or Allen.

It’s been a while since he’s hit the gym properly though—he’s mostly stuck to jogging at nights around the area where he lives since he’s joined literary society last year. He knows the school gym is somewhere near the track field but he hasn’t been in it, and so he takes a while to find it. When he does, though, he vaguely wonders if he should’ve left his bag in the student council room with Link since he sees no cubby holes to put his stuff.

His wondering screeches to a halt when he pushes the door open and sees Kanda on the pull up bars.

Kanda’s back is towards him and the other is wearing his P.E. shirt, _flimsy thin_ P.E shirt, Lavi has to state, because the white material is soaked through and sticking to those back muscles that flex each time Kanda pulls his chin over the bar with a practised ease that isn’t fair at all. And Kanda is also wearing sport shorts that reveal his milky thighs—now Lavi can reason why Kanda’s skin is so white is because the sailor pretty much wears the hiking gear that covers his entire lower body, but it doesn’t answer how the other’s complexion has nothing of a hint of a suntan—Lavi already feels the UV rays clawing into his skin and _he_ actually puts on sunblock. If he remembers.

Five more counts and Kanda drops his grip to land on the ground, gaze tilting backward.

“If you’re going to stand there like an idiot at least close the fucking door—the air conditioning is on.”

Lavi scowls to himself and steps in, closing the door behind him. “Allen said that you could lend me a P.E. shirt and shorts.”

A grumble occurs but clothes get shoved at him, which leaves Lavi flabbergasted.

“Wash it before you give it back to me. I don’t want your dirty laundry.”

“Right. Thanks,” he nods, taking the clothes to the toilet outside to change.

He tries not to think too much about this strange situation—but it’s hard not to, especially when Kanda’s size is a little tight for him, but it’ll do. When he comes back Kanda has moved to the dumb bells, muscles flexing with the slow measured breathes.

He tries not to look at Kanda too much and surveys the rest of the gym, wondering where he should start.

“Push ups,” Kanda says, and Lavi looks at him. “Get on the floor. Start with push ups.”

“How many?”

“Fifty.”

“What.”

“You can’t do it?” Kanda smirks, and Lavi narrows his eye.

He gets to the mat and positions himself down, palms spread apart.

“One,” he counts as he dips his body low. “Two. Three.”

“That doesn’t count. Again.”

“What do you mean that didn’t count?” Lavi demands, head cocking to side to look at Kanda.

“You didn’t keep your body straight. And go lower.” Lavi grunts and lowers himself again, but Kanda clucks his tongue. “Lower.”

“Any lower I’m gonna kiss the fucking ground,” Lavi mutters, and pushes himself up again, grunting from the exertion. “Four.”

“No, you’re still at two.”

“Fuck you, Yuu.”

“Don’t use my first name, asshole.”

* * *

Link doesn’t even comment when Lavi stumbles into the student council room later, looking dead on his feet.

Lavi grins. “Hey, sorry, did you wait long?”

“You’ve waited longer for me,” Link says, packing his half-done homework that he was pouring through before Lavi came in.

“True,” Lavi shrugs, waiting for the student council president to lock up the room before they leave for home. “Fuck, I’m gonna regret this tomorrow so bad,” he winces, stretching his arms. “Yuu said I couldn’t do ten pull ups, but fuck him, I did it, man.”

“That would’ve really helped your NAFTA last year,” Link says with raised eyebrows and Lavi huffs.

“Whatever. It’s totally unfair. Yuu’s a monster at this kind of stuff.”

“Which is precisely why you shouldn’t kill yourself trying to prove him wrong,” Link rolls his eyes. “He’s just baiting you, you know.”

“Baiting? Nah, I doubt that. Yuu’s just a stubborn prick who thinks I can’t do anything.”

“I can say the same for you.”

“Shut up, prez. You have absolutely no right to say _I’m_ stubborn after you ran that marathon with the sprained ankle.”

“As the president I couldn’t possibly—“

“I rest my case.”

* * *

Two months pass by faster than one would expect as usual, and Lavi brightens up at the prospect of the March holidays closing in. One week of holidays isn’t much, but at least it’s a break from the lectures and tutorials which are honestly too boring for words—teachers were already starting to slip in revision for last year’s topics, and Lavi remembers all of them just fine. Maybe he should start on _Tomb Raider: Guardian of the Light_ once the last Friday of the term comes. But all those plans, of course, shatters when Fou hands him a paper to fill in after training one day.

(He’s getting the hold of tacking, of which he can’t help and grin when he _doesn’t_ capsize. Kanda ignores his victories, the stupid jerk.)

“Mikk thinks it’s too early for you to join the upcoming regatta but I think it’s good experience anyhow,” she says. “You can use the school boat, though I think shorty and pretty boy will use their own.”

Lavi glances at the form and blinks. “ _Five days_?” A boat race over _five days_?

“Got a problem with that?” Fou cocks her head threateningly, but soothes into a grin after. “Get used to it, Red. I know you’ve only sailed for a max three hours at ago, so this will be tough. Ah shit, you don’t know the racing flags, do you? Remind me next week. Just sign the form and give it to the reception for now.”

Lavi sees that he doesn’t actually have a choice in this. “Well. Okay.”

* * *

One thing about sea sports—they are entirely dependent on the weather. If the tide is too low they can’t launch their boats. If the wind is too light, it’s useless too. When it storms—especially with lightning—there is absolutely no way anyone is allowed on the water. Unfortunately, or fortunately, the humid country is prone to rain on and off again, and next week sees them sitting around a table at the sailing center with cards in Allen’s hand.

Tyki is seated at the table next to theirs absorbed into his book, lazily flicking the pages.

“Is this what you guys do when it rains?” Lavi asks as Allen shuffles his deck of cards expertly with a smile that seemed way too happy.

“Generally, yeah,” Allen nods, never once looking at the cards he manipulates in his hands. “Or homework, but I don’t want to do homework today. Let’s play poker.”

“Fuck no, not that shitty game.”

“Don’t be a baby, Kanda,” Allen smirks.

“Cheater.”

“Sore-loser.”

“It’s not losing when you fucking cheat.”

“You were the dealer the other time, how could I have possibly cheated?” Allen says with an air of innocence, and Kanda growls.

“Hate to break into your gambling den, but training is still on, you brats,” Fou huffs when she stomps over to them, shoving herself into their table. She also drops a slightly tattered book in the midst of them all. “The regatta is next week.”

“And?” Kanda scoffs.

“And Red here needs to get up on speed with the rules,” Fou finishes. “Which one of you kids got a pencil?”

Allen produces one, and Fou opens up the book to a blank page.

“Alright, Red, pay attention.” The female couch draws four circles in the shape of a rhombus. “So far you’ve sailed the triangle course, but typically in regattas they’ll put a square course. It’s about the same—you start from the first buoy and zig zag up north towards the second buoy that will be placed in the direction of the wind, head to the third buoy on your right with a reach, leeward down to the forth buoy, and turn back towards the first buoy. Two rounds of this before you cross the finishing line. This is considered one race. The committee boat, this one here,” she doodles a vague triangle near the starting point, “Will decide how many races you’ll do a day. This is where the flags are important.”

She flips the book several pages over.

“At the beginning of each race the space between the committee boat and the first buoy is the starting line,” she explains. “We don’t have time to practice your starts, but it’s relatively simple. Stay behind the invisible line it until it’s time. The first flag will go up with a horn when it’s 5 minutes to start—they’ll fly a white triangular flag with a red dot. At four minutes, they’ll raise another flag below it. Now, this flag will tell you what you have to do if you across the start line before the start signal.”

On the page that Fou points to are a blue flag with a white square, a yellow flag with a black circle and black flag.

“If you cross over the line accidentally, I’d just recommend that you sail to buoy or to the committee boat and tack around it to go back down. If you cross the line when the black flag is flown, then uh,” she coughs. “Don’t bother with the race—you’re disqualified.”

“That’s harsh.”

“Yeah, but it gets annoying when there are too many over excited idiots crossing the line,” she rolls her eyes. “One minute before start another horn will sound. When it’s the start signal, another horn, and this time, the flags will be lowered. Got that?”

“Yeah. Start flag, penalty flag, actual start. Pretty much.”

“Hm,” Fou nods, pleased that she doesn’t have to repeat it again. “Good. There are tons of other flags that shorty or pretty boy can share with you but these are the only ones you really need to know. And of course for the finishing line, look for the committee boat—it’ll be flying a blue flag this time. Just sail between it and the last buoy. And you’re done.”

“Great.”

“No pressure on rankings, Red,” Fou grins. “Just focus on getting through the races.”

Lavi shrugs, smiling. “There’s no time limit right? I might manage somehow.”

“I’m sure you will,” Allen puts in encouragingly.

Kanda, unfortunately, will never do the same. “Are you sure you can even get past the starting line?”

Lavi sours, and narrows his eye. “You know I can—you’ve been a boat with me for weeks! You’ve seen me progress! I can tack now!”

“Wow you can fucking tack,” Kanda mutters sarcastically. “I didn’t see anything but the fucking water you keep capsizing into!”

“I’m working on that!”

* * *

The first day of the regatta starts on the Saturday morning right when the holidays are supposed to begin, and Lavi stifles his yawn into his arm as he groggily rigs up his boat. Beside him Allen and Kanda are already almost done with theirs. Lavi shivers as the wind blows up against his short sleeved shirt; he’s half eyeing the long sleeved watersuits that the other two sailors wear. But then the heat could turn up insane in the afternoon and he’d rather not bake in the sun, thank you very much.   
  
The sailing centre is a lot busier than he’s used to. It’s generally pretty quiet on their training days, sometimes with another bunch of teens from other schools he’s not arsed to learn. But today the place is packed with parents and teens and children, and he sees kids half his height carrying smaller sails on their shoulders and walking towards a boxier shaped boat known as the optimist.

The scent of salt and sunblock is strong in the air, and Lavi leans back and groans when he realises his mainsheet is twisted. With a sigh he unknots the figure of eight at the end of the rope and restarts looping the rope through the pulleys.

Allen is munching on some bread leaning on his own boat when Lavi is done.

“Want some?” The younger offers up a tupperware that seems to hold more bread inside it.

“I’m too nervous to eat,” Lavi admits, waving it away.

“Nonsense, you’ll need the energy,” Allen presses, taking out sausage bun and pressing it into the redhead’s hand.

“Hm.”

Lavi looks at the bread in his hand and shrugs, taking a chew from it. He has his own food box tied to the hiking straps in his boat—it’s ridiculous but he’s going to be out in the freaking sea for the whole entire day; the heat might just be overkill to his brain. Allen wisely has tucked his hair underneath a cap. In fact, the white haired boy is so covered up with his long sleeved wetsuit, gloves, hiking gear and booties that Lavi gets why the boy can stay so pale. But in exchange for sweating like a pig in this weather? No thanks.

A strong gust of wind blows by and the sails rattle, jangling Lavi’s nerves at the same time. It’s normal that he’s feeling a little jittery about this regatta; it’s his first after all. It’s not the first time Lavi’s competed in anything—he has won plenty awards for writing stuff, but perhaps, it is his first official _sport_ competition. He doesn’t have any delusions that he’s going to win anything, of course not, he’s just picked it up like two months ago. However Lavi does hope he’s not the _last_ —because he’s got a point to prove to one Yuu Kanda.

Speaking of whom, the pro sailor has gone and returned to his boat in full gear sticking to his muscled thighs. Lavi would say something, except a loud long horn sounds throughout the air, a signal to get to the water. Hurriedly he stuffs the rest of Allen’s bread into his mouth and grabs his boat trolley.

They take a while to await their turn to unload their boats at the beach, but once they’re in the water, barely a few minutes later sees that they’re off toward the open sea. Maybe why Lavi is so nervous is because it’s essentially the first time he’s sailing _alone_ —Kanda would normally be in the boat glaring at him, but today the front of his boat is empty.

It’s half a relief but also not, because Kanda has been directing him all the time. It’s just him and the boat today.

Sit forward, sheet in, hike out.

It becomes a mantra he repeats in his head when he’s in the boat, and his sail catches wind. Allen and Kanda are already predictably ahead of him, boats leaving white foam over the surface of the water as they speed forward.

The wind feels a lot stronger today, and Lavi grits his teeth to hold his sail where it is, biceps straining against the force. His whole body is out of the boat too, in the attempt to keep the balance. Once or twice the boat tips towards his sail but he manages somehow, letting out his sail when he spots his team mates waiting with a mass of other boats around.

His boat sprays a bit of water as his sail luffs in the wind to come to a halt, bumping up and down with the waves.

Kanda is looking over at him and Lavi cocks a questioning eyebrow. “What?”

“Tighten your kicker.”

“Why?”

“Tch. Forget it.”

“The wind is strong today,” Allen cuts in to explain, rolling his eyes. “It’ll help to flatten your sail, makes it easier for you to handle the wind.”

“Oh.”

Lavi gingerly stretches to reach for the small rope at the mast, and ducks sharply when the boom comes closer to the centre of the boat thanks to the waves bumping his hull towards the direction of the wind. Allen chuckles and sails around him to come to a closer stop next to him to help him steady the boat. Kanda gives them a scoff before settling down into his boat, ignoring them.

The waves are choppy and it takes a couple of tries before Lavi manages to yank the kicker down more. By now they are in the middle of a fleet of other bytes, all with the orange topped sails like them.

“Yo, Kanda!”

“Fuck,” Lavi hears Kanda mutter to himself as the pro sailor tries to lean further down into his boat, pretending that he didn’t hear anything.

“Jap! I know ya heard me!” The yell continues, and Lavi blinks as another byte comes in to where they are, expertly stopping right beside Kanda’s boat.

“Don’t touch my fucking boat, dweeb,” Kanda snaps, suddenly sitting upright and hastily grabbing his mainsheet.

“Hey—HEY! WE’RE GONNA KICK YOUR ASS THIS TIME!” the boy shouts as Kanda sails his boat away with a backward middle finger.

Another byte suddenly comes splashing beside them, the owner sliding his fingers over the other boy’s boat. “Where’s the Jap?”

“Sailing away like a fucking coward,” the boy grins.

From afar, an echo of _fuck you_ resonates in the air.

Lavi now sees that the two other sailors are tanned. Extremely tanned, in fact, going by the shade of their skin.

“Oh, Al! Didn’t see ya there!” the black haired one suddenly turns to them, eyes bright.

The other is a blonde, long hair scrunched behind him in a ponytail. “It must’ve been your height—I totally passed over ya!”

“Very funny, guys,” Allen rolls his eyes. 

“You know we love ya, Brit,” the brunette wiggles his fingers. “Who’s the redhead behind ya? Woah, Jaz, check it out, he’s half blind!”

“Shit, you’re right. Ya think he’s any good?”

“Cut it out,” Allen huffs. “He’s Lavi—and new, so back off.”

“Whatev’,” the blonde dismisses, waving his hand. “Let’s go, Debs. I see Mada in the distance.”

“Psych. Catch ya later at the finishing line, little man!”

Allen sighs when the two boats sail off in some direction, dangerously weaving through the other bytes bobbing on the water surface around.

“They don’t look like it, but they’re twins,” Allen speaks up as Lavi gazes after the boats, confused. “The blonde’s Jasdero, the brunette, Debitto. They’re actually Mr Mikk’s nephews.”

“Seriously?”

“Unfortunately.”

“So…how do you and Yuu know them?”

“They’re on the same team as us. Not our school team but the, uh, _other_ team,” Allen clarifies.

“Pro sailors too?”

“Yep.”

Lavi bites his lip. “…I’m gonna be last in the race, aren’t I?”

Allen chuckles. “Nah, there are always a couple of new sailors in every race. You’ll be fine.”

Lavi, for some reason, does not believe him.

* * *

When the first horn blares, Lavi jolts and starts the timer on his watch.

Five minutes to start.

He tenses and makes to sheet in, but Allen taps his boat and shakes his head.

“Five minutes is actually plenty of time,” the younger says, relaxed in his boat. “If you get too near the start line too soon, the current will push you over. Just follow my lead.”

Lavi thanks god for having such an awesome junior like Allen—so unlike his other teammate who he hasn’t seen since the other escaped from the twins. Three minutes to start is when Allen gestures that they should make a move.

“Alright. You might lose me at the start line, but just remember what you’ve learnt and you’re good. I’ll find you later. Good luck!”

Lavi nods, and Allen is off faster than he can blink. Wearily he makes his own move, inching closer to the start line, but by now all the other boats are clamouring in front of him. Several curses fill the air as the current pushes some boats over.

“Hey—hey! Starboard! STARBOARD! TACK BEFORE I CRASH INTO YOU, IDIOT!”

A byte rushes towards him, and Lavi hastens to tack, causing him to veer further downwards away from the start line. He grinds his teeth and bears away, trying to steer his boat back up.

Another horn sounds. One minute to start.

The cursings at the start line gets louder. Lavi can’t see much except for the mass of boats all trying to squeeze against each other, and because he’s behind all of the boats, there is insufficient wind in his sail to move him forward.

10.

9.

8.

7.

Lavi groans and bears away as much as he can, and abruptly catches too much wind.

6.

5.

4.

3.

2.

He reaches the committee boat and is forced to tack before he goes away from the start line.

1.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOP

By some miracle he manages to cross the line just on time, but the only unfortunate thing is that he’s at the end of the line furthest away from the north buoy. The wind blows hard against his face, and he grips his mainsheet tighter.

Tell tails, check. Boom to the corner of the stern, check.

White caps on the waves beat harshly against his boat, but Lavi trudges on, holding tight even as the wind speed picks up, tipping his boat again. One thing about strong wind is that even for an inexperienced sailor like him, the boat goes fast enough to seem like he’s not lagging too much behind, but it makes tacking extremely difficult.

On the first tack, his boom swings over so violently that he doesn’t have enough time to get over to the other side and capsizes.

The cool water seeps through his eyepatch and Lavi struggles to get to the hull so that he can upright the boat. It makes him feel slightly better that there are a couple of other capsized boats around. It is somehow harder to move in the water today, probably the strong current, but he’s done this far too many times over the past weeks.

He gets up on board and is off again, heading towards the buoy.

In the distance he can already see several bytes that have rounded the first buoy, but he’s too far away to see who it is. Nonetheless, he ploughes on, running through Fou’s instructions—sheet in, hike out, watch the buoy.

The second tack he takes, he’s more wary and prepared. He’s half way across the boat before he actually points his rudder, but the wind is still strong enough to tip the boat to a dangerous balance. He gets to the buoy eventually, and eases out his sail like he’s done so for the past million times.

Except this time the sail suddenly swings over and the next thing Lavi knows it, he’s in the water.

“God—damn—it!”

Several hard won minutes later he’s back up and sailing across to the second buoy. Reaches are the easiest to sail and Lavi gets to the third buoy gripping his fingers tight on the rudder and mainsheet. From there he bears away to sail downwind along with the course—but doesn’t expect his boat to tip forwards, hull dragging into the water. Warily he shifts backwards but water is sloshing into his boat and when a large wave splashes in, it catches him off guard. He slackens the grip on the mainsheet in surprise, and the boat drags forward with the sudden extra wind caught.

“Shit—“

And its salt water again, this time in his mouth. Lavi coughs hoarsely, spitting the water out. His boat bobs with the large waves as he scrambles to get a hold of it before the boat drifts away with the current.

Fuck, why was the wind particularly difficult to handle today?

* * *

“DO YOUR PENALTY, JAP, OR ELSE I’M GONNA PROTEST!”

“GO AHEAD FUCKER! I WAS IN THE FUCKING RIGHT OF WAY!”

“Dear god, who cares?” Allen groans, sitting legs up in his boat. “It was after the finishing line anyway.”

“HE SCRATCHED MY BOAT! YOU SAW IT TOO, RIGHT, JAZZY?”

“I SURE DID YOU LYING JAP!”

“FUCKING BLIND ASSHOLES—I DIDN’T EVEN TOUCH YOUR FUCKING BOAT—“

Allen picks up his mainsheet and sails a distance away from the row between the twins and Kanda. There are about ten boats around, with more coming in from the back as other sailor cross the finishing line. Generally he knows most of the sailors who finish fast because they’re in the same international team, but today it takes him a while before he spots two bytes drifting lazily together that he recognizes.

“Hey,” he greets the male figure in one chewing a banana, and the other, a pretty light-haired girl dozing off without a care.

The two them look the most alike with their quiet demeanours: Madaro and Tewaku, both of whom come from family of sailors.

Madaro cocks his gaze over and nods. “Who was first?”

Allen scowls and jabs his thumb toward the noisy trio he left behind still yelling at each other, in particular towards the Asian.

The other sailor nods again in acknowledgement but otherwise eats another mouth of the fruit. A couple of seconds pass before Madaro rummages in his boat and hold out a banana towards Allen. Allen beams.

“The wind is unusually strong today. It picked up even more when I was halfway through the course,” Allen comments as he bites the fruit, taking half clean off. “Strange, isn’t it? It’s not even monsoon season.”

Madaro shrugs and looks into the distance. “Kiredori and Tokusa are probably dying out there.”

“Hm. I hope my friend is alright too.”

* * *

Lavi’s capsized at least ten times in the leeward course and he isn’t even halfway through the race. Breathing heavily he sits back in his boat with his sail luffing in the wind, tired. The sky is clear but the sea seems to be getting rougher, waves billowing around his boat. He barely manages to duck when the boom swings further to the center of the boat, being pushed by the current. The rudder is particularly difficult to steer against the water. With a sigh he sits back up to the side of the boat and bears away, turning his boat back downwind. There’s no use sitting like a duck in the water—he has to complete the race somehow.

The wind catches, his boat tips. He struggles to lean backward, but the wind is unrelentingly strong. A waves bumps him from behind and the tiny release he makes with the mainsheet loosens the sail just enough to catch too much wind—and just like that, capsize number eleven.

Lavi’s not a weak swimmer by the constant exertion and the strong current sees him wading desperately to reach his boat. With every kick he makes towards it, the current pushes it two paces away. Water splashes into his mouth again, and he coughs, feeling slightly dizzy.

His boat drifts further away.

* * *

“Have you seen Lavi? I don’t see his boat.”

Allen surveys the area where they have already de-rigged their boats, others queuing in line at the hose to rinse themselves.

Kanda shrugs uncaringly and hauls his lifejacket over his shoulder. “Wait for him if you want. I’m leaving.”

Allen tosses him a glare but whatever he intended to say was cut off by a call towards them.

“Boys,” Fou stalks to them, cheeks looking slightly burnt from the sun. “Is Red still here?”

Allen shakes his head. “We haven’t seen him.”

“Hm, he’s probably home, then,” Fou muses.

“So fast?” Allen blinks. “But Kanda and I were the first ones back to shore—“

“He forfeited, I think. Check the rankings for me,” Fou scratches the back of her head. “I saw his boat being towed to shore towards the end of the first race. Well, it got up to 26 knots today. Can’t have been easy,” she shrugs. “Tell him to find me tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

“Oh by the way, pretty boy,” Fou stops in her paces as she was leaving to grin widely. “Your dad’s here.”

“…Tch.”

* * *

Lavi doesn’t turn up the next day.

Or the next.

Or the next.

On the last day of the regatta Kanda watches Allen trying to call Lavi’s number to no avail. He thinks it’s stupid for Allen to even bother—I mean, seriously. The bean should just learn to read the fucking signs.

“Beansprout, let’s fucking get to the water,” he grinds out impatiently.

“Wait, last try, I promise,” Allen holds up a finger, and Kanda groans.

“The fucking coward doesn’t want to talk to you,” he snaps. “He gave up, so should you.”

Allen shushes him again, and Kanda picks up his boat trolley to get to the beach. Hell, he’ll just bully some idiot in the water to hold his boat while he affixes the rudder.

What ever happened to proving him wrong, huh.

Fucking liar.

* * *

The new school term starts, but there are no trainings for the week as they usually get the week after a regatta off, not even his weekend trainings. In Kanda’s room there is a shiny new trophy to match the other shiny medals, not that he feels particularly happy about it—it’s just a given, you know, that he’d win something. He always has, for the past few years now.

However there is much to be desired on the flip side, aka academics. There are always tests in the first week of a new term—always fucking tests, and Kanda cracks his brain trying to remember the formula for a nitrate and hydroxide reaction. He yawns, but all that comes to his brain is the formula for integration. He’s not to blame, since math is tested tomorrow. He ends up scrawling some sort of equation, maybe he’ll get marks somewhere somehow, and at the end of the day, he lies on one of the canteen benches with his eyes closed.

He doesn’t want to go home and study—he’s really rather be out at sea, but it’s just too bad they’re given a break. It’s only a Wednesday, there’s still like, five more days before he can get to the sea.

But first, he needs to get through the stupid tests.

It’s not that Kanda’s _stupid_ , but academics isn’t his strong suit. He’s alright with math and physics but chemistry is a barely there and he’s terrible with economics. He’s quite sure he failed the economics test on Monday, but fuck it, there wasn’t time to cram for it, not when he had a five day regatta over the holidays.

He’ll just do…something when the actual A levels arrive.

The canteen is quiet since most students are in the library or at home studying for the tests, but there is one other person who’s queuing at one of the food stalls. It’s an odd hour to eat—it’s about three, which is neither lunch or tea, but then again, the beansprout eats like, every minute. The student buys two curry puffs and wanders to the table next to Kanda’s to sit down.

It’s not that he wants to notice it, but Kanda knows who this guy is, although it is only by face, because he’s the student council president. If Kanda thinks hard enough he might know the other’s name, but honestly he doesn’t care. But what he really notices is not the president’s face, but the suspicious lack of redhead around him. Lavi’s always next to this guy before he comes over to bother Kanda during break sometimes.

Come to think of it, he didn’t see Lavi in the hall either during the economics test on Monday.

“Where’s the idiot?”

Kanda curses himself for opening his mouth—it wasn’t intended in the least.

Link pauses in mid bite in his curry puff, eyes sliding over to the sailor. It’s the first time Kanda has ever spoken to the blond, but Link doesn’t seem ruffled in the least. “Who are you referring to?”

Kanda huffs. “The guy always around you.”

Link just looks at him questioningly, and Kanda knows it’s a fucking _lie_.

“Lavi,” he grinds out reluctantly.

The blond then takes a bite from his pastry, chewing it. “He’s at home,” he says calmly. “Says he isn’t feeling so well.”

“Bullshit,” Kanda mutters under his breath.

Ditching four days of regatta plus the weekend _and_ three days of school? Unless it’s the fucking Dengue, Kanda won’t believe the damn truant. Whatever. He’ll think about the loss of the sailing member after the tests. He needs to go home and study.

But before he stands up and grabs his bag, Link says his name.

“Kanda.”

How the president actually knows his name, he is a bit suspicious. “What?”

Link holds out a folder. “Pass this to him.”

Kanda squints at the post it note tacked on it that says _project work_. “No. I don’t know where the idiot lives anyway.”

A second later another post it note is tacked into the folder; it’s an address.

“I don’t want it. Give it to him yourself.”

“Can’t,” Link says, completely unperturbed. “I have council duties today.”

“I need to fucking study.”

“Then give it to him tomorrow.”

“You give it when he comes tomorrow.”

Link presses his lips together and puts the folder on the table. “You and I know that he won’t be coming tomorrow,” he murmurs, standing up. With a sigh he grabs his bag and plastic bag of pastries, looking at his watch. “I need to go. Get it to him by the weekend—he needs to do those before next week.”

“I never agreed to—“

But Link is gone before Kanda can complete his sentence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The NAFTA (National Aerobics & Fitness Trainers Association) test that Link referred to is a nation-wide fitness test anyone in primary and secondary education has to take annually.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has never been posted before and ends awkwardly - it's actually a half-chapter, but I doubt I'll continue this, so enjoy.

Lavi hears the banging on his door and pulls the covers over his head, trying to block out the noise. He knows that Bookman is annoyed at his state but he doesn’t care—he doesn’t want to see anybody with the mess that he’s in. The entire week Bookman had tried to get him out of bed but to no avail, not even with threats to ground him; he’s basically grounded now anyway, so fuck it.

There’s the worrying bit about skipping his tests which he might not get a re-take if he’s to admit the truth that he’s skipping classes not for any medical reasons, but then, this is practically a medical reason.

He feels like throwing up, all the time.

He still can feel the rocky waves and the salt in his mouth, the fatigue that set into his bones and the moment that he had thought, ‘I can’t do this anymore’. What was the point if every time he uprighted the boat he was just going to struggle under the wind and huge waves that flooded his boat, the inevitable moment that his boat would tip unbalanced and throw him again into the water? While he was floating at least ten meters away from his capsized boat for the countless time, a safety boat moved near and he was too tired to even raise his arm for a lift out.

Sitting in the speed boat with his head in his palms and a breath he struggled to catch, he didn’t think much until his feet was back on the sand, towing his boat back up to the centre.

It was empty.

The centre was _empty_.

It was only him back on shore. How fucking pathetic.

He’s really not cut out for this. He can’t face Kanda or Allen or Fou after this. It was a no brainer that he didn’t have the heart to turn up the next day, or the next, or for the rest of the regatta because whenever he thought about trying again he thought about that empty centre. Kanda was going to say ‘I told you so’. Fuck it all.

Link had texted him to chide him about missing school—both of them know its childish and stupid and he has no good reason other than the fact that _he doesn’t feel like it_ —and Link leaves him alone after that knowing that eventually he’ll get guilty enough to haul his ass off his bed.

But for now on a Saturday afternoon, he doesn’t care. At least let him be pathetic for the weekend too; he’ll need it when he gets his life in order next week.

Bookman bangs on his door again. “Get up you lazy idiot!”

“Go away, old man, I’m not in the mood!” he yells back, to which he knows immediately after that he’s going to get into more trouble later.

Surprisingly enough there is no yell back, and Lavi flops back onto his pillow and sighs. A minute later, however, his door knob jingles and a key unlocks his door. Lavi raises a peek up warily—Bookman must be real pissed if he used the master key—and immediately scrambles in wide-eyed shock when he sees _who_ is standing in his doorway.

“Do whatever you want with him, just get him back before dinner,” Bookman huffs and stalks out.

Kanda nods, and then turn some very pissed off eyes towards the lump on the bed. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“…I—Yuu—I-I—…w-what are you doing here?” Lavi stutters meekly, hastily sitting up and attempting to look presentable—but there’s just so much crumpled pyjamas and a messy bedhead can do for you.

Kanda ignores his question and stalks closer. Lavi has seen the other in normal clothing (after trainings) but nothing quite so causal like a t shirt and jeans.

“Get up. Brush your teeth,” Kanda orders, eyes doing a judgemental survey of his room. “Hurry up.”

“Err…why?”

“ _Get the fuck up_ ,” Kanda repeats more harshly, and Lavi scrambles to get off his bed.

Kanda is angry—genuinely angry—and Lavi is a tiny bit (a lot) scared of that. Obediently he does what he’s told, coming out of the bathroom feeling at a loss. Bookman just ignores his confused spluttering when Kanda grabs him by the back of his shirt and pulls him out of his flat, down the lifts and shoves him into a car awaiting.

“Um,” he says, on the verge of a heart attack. “What’s happening?”

If he’s getting kidnapped and murdered, he’d doubt his uncle would pay the ransom considering how the elder is pissed at him.

“Hello there, son,” an old man with thick white hair and rounded glasses turns to him from the driver’s seat smiling warmly. “How are you feeling?”

“Um,” Lavi repeats, frantically looking at Kanda who sat himself on the opposite side of the passenger seat, pointedly looking out of the window. “Hi. I’ve…been better?”

“Quit the small talk, old man,” Kanda grumbles. “Let’s go already.”

“So impatient,” the older man chuckles, turning back to click in his seatbelt. “I’m Yuu’s father—“

“—not my dad—“

“—his _dad_?” Lavi repeats in incredulity because there is no physical resemblance that he can see what so ever, and then blanches. “Sorry, it…it caught me off guard.”

“Not at all,” the other hums as he gets the car moving. “Yuu’s adopted, but I love him all the same.”

Lavi nearly gets a crick in his neck as he turns to stare at Kanda again.

Kanda refuses to look at either of them. “Both of you, shut up. And let’s get going already.”

There is a twinkle in the elder’s eyes as the other turns back to the wheel and steps on the accelerator.

* * *

Lavi learns that Kanda’s father—foster father—is actually a sailing coach himself, which explains why Kanda got into the sport. It is then not very surprising that they end up at the sailing centre, with Kanda glaring at him to get out of the car when he makes no move. Kanda’s dad nods at them both before disappearing somewhere in while Kanda grabs him by the back of his neck and hauls him to the toilets with a sling bag over his shoulder. Lavi still has no idea why they’re here, until Kanda throws a pair of board shorts and an old shirt into his face.

“Change up.”

“What are we doing?” Lavi presses, but Kanda ignores him and goes to the cubicles with his own change of clothes.

When Lavi returns Kanda is already waiting for him, scowl in place. The Asian is similarly dressed like him, not in the usual wet suit he wears, which is slightly odd. Without another word Lavi gets dragged out to where the boats are, and when Kanda stands in front of a stack of upturned boats, Lavi kind of gets where this is going.

“Oi, hold it properly,” Kanda snaps, and Lavi jolts to obey.

Together they lift and overturn two boats into a trolley each, and Kanda disappears somewhere to bring back two masts and sails. The way that Kanda steadfastly refuses to talk prevents Lavi from asking anymore questions, but the redhead is still hesitant when he looks at the sail in his hands.

He’s pretty sure they’re not supposed to attempt to go out at sea without supervision, even if Kanda is a pro sailor. He’s also pretty sure that this is Kanda’s _personal_ boat—or one of the many—with Kanda’s personal mast and sail and why the hell is Kanda insistent on making him go back out there with the crashing waves?

Hadn’t he screwed up enough to prove the other’s point?

“Stop that,” Kanda suddenly barks, and he jumps. “There’s practically no fucking wind today. Rig the boat,” he orders.

Lavi breathes in tight. “Yuu,” he begins slowly. “You were right, okay? This…I’m not cut out for this, I get it.”

“No, you don’t,” Kanda scowls, eyes flashing at him. “I said _rig the damn boat_.”

There’s something deadly in Kanda’s tone that Lavi doesn’t dare protest, and he pulls up the sail on the mast even though the last thing he wants is to get back on the water. When Kanda deems that he’s done, the other picks up his boat trolley and leads the way to the beach, where Kanda’s dad is sitting on a speedboat out in the bay reading a newspaper. Lavi blinks until Kanda’s father spots them and waves towards them, to which Kanda ignores.

Within a few minutes Lavi is sitting in a boat alone again, hands moving with practised motions to put the jiggerboard down and to sheet in to get some wind in his sails. Like Kanda had mentioned, the wind is rather light today—the boat chugs slowly forward when it catches wind, and Lavi has to lean forward to make sure his boat is balanced.

Kanda is of course way ahead of him by the time he gets out of the bay. There are a couple of fleets of sail boats much further out in the sea, but the area where they are is relatively empty. Kanda’s father moves along with them never giving directions, so Lavi is pretty lost as so where he’s heading. Kanda up ahead does a tack and comes back down after a while, steering close to his boat before tacking again.

“You’re not moving. Bear away more,” Kanda instructs.

“Yuu, what are we—“

“Sit forward,” Kanda talks over him, uncaring. “Watch your tell tails.”

“Yuu! What are—“

“Now, point a bit.”

“Yuu—“

“Shut up, rabbit.”

Lavi stares, incredulous. “What did you just call me?” he frowns, but then shakes his head. “Whatever, you—Yuu, what the _hell_ are we doing?!” he demands.

“Sailing.”

He swears Kanda is smirking or something close to it. “I can see that. I’m not blind despite my one eye,” he replies blandly. “Why are we sailing? We’ve already established that I’m not good at this, alright, you don’t have to—“

“You’re matching pace with me,” Kanda interjects, and Lavi pauses.

Suddenly he realises that he _is_ moving in pace with Kanda who is sailing at ease in just in front of him, body posture relaxed. His boat is gliding through the water with barely any sound, but that is probably due to the fact that the water is very calm today—there is barely a ripple on the surface, and he’s moving fast over the top like a hot knife on butter.

Kanda catches his glance when he looks back again, and the pro sailor bears away to catch more wind, also cutting past the front of Lavi’s boat. With the extra wind in his sails, Kanda’s boat tips towards his sail but sailor balances it perfectly with a hike out. There’s something very natural and fluid in the way that Kanda moves in tune with his boat that Lavi cannot describe, and when the other reaches out lazily with one hand to skim the surface of the water, Lavi stares, wordless.

Lavi moves to follow suit since he still doesn’t know where they’re going—and the balancing of the boat barely takes much effort when he hikes out unlike the other time, boat speed smooth and uninterrupted. Gingerly he grips the mainsheet and rudder in one hand while he stretches out the other like Kanda is doing, drawing lines on the water surface, the liquid cool against his palm.

It’s a stunning picture with the wind in his hair and the setting sun in the distance highlighting Kanda’s form as they sail towards west, and maybe, he might understand why Kanda loves sailing so much—it’s the mix of tranquillity and excitement that the sport can offer, and also, the undeniably beautiful moment that sits right here, right now.

* * *

Of course Lavi suspects that Kanda was holding back when he supposedly “matched pace”, but he’s enjoying himself too much to care, and yells a good natured insult when Kanda circles around his boat because he didn’t catch up. When they’re back on shore spraying their boats clean, Lavi decides that he should say something, but Kanda beats him to it.

“Look,” the other begins, expression annoyed like he can’t believe he has to say this. “It was 26 fucking knots. You weren’t the only one who gave up that day.” There is dead silence except for the trickle of water coming from their hoses, and Kanda growls low in his throat before sending a glare towards the redhead. “But you decide whether you give up forever.”

Lavi blinks, opening his mouth, then he closes it. And opens it again. “Okay,” he says faintly, because he doesn’t know what to say.

He keeps quiet until Kanda’s dad drops him off at his house later that evening, and he pauses with his hand on the door handle.

“Thanks, uncle,” he smiles to the older man, who acknowledges with a warm beam in return, and then turns to Kanda. “Um, Yuu…”

Kanda looks over at him slightly.

His throat feels rather dry, but that might be because he does need some water for rehydration. “Today…thanks. Thank you. I…thank you,” he repeats, slightly embarrassed at the way he’s stumbling over words.

“Tch.”

“Seriously,” he says, because he wants Kanda to believe it. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“I don’t want it,” is Kanda’s predicted response, and Lavi grins slightly.

“Yuu—“

Kanda shuffles with some folder at the backseat and shoves it at him. “Here’s your damn homework. Now get out.”

Lavi looks down at the folder in his hands and smiles nonetheless. “Thanks,” he says for the last time before he stumbles out of the car, waving till the car disappears down the road.

“Not a word, old man,” Kanda snaps, turning to look out at the window again.

Tiedoll just shakes his head, smiling.

* * *

Saturday 11:13 PM  
To: Mr Prez(tel)

_thanks man  
_ _even though we don’t have project work  
_ _do you want the baking recipes back_

**_no I have them on my harddive  
_ ** **_just get here on Monday_ **

_aww you missed me_

**_no_ **

_you know youre exactly like yuu_

**_I don’t need to know_ **

_i wasnt saying anything_

**_yet_ **

* * *

Summer holidays are up and coming and Lavi can’t wait to _not_ wake up at 6 am for a month, or so he thinks until the extra lecture schedule gets released. It’s currently the first week of June and he sits at the corner of the canteen angrily eating a bowl of laksa after the morning sessions—the spicy soup base of the noodles does little to make him feel better, unfortunately.

“Why do I have to be here?” he complains. “I don’t need remedial lessons, it doesn’t even make sense.”

“It’s not remedial lessons,” Link reminds him blandly from across the table, eating his own fried rice dish. “Its new material, were you even paying attention?” he asks, and answers his own question immediately. “You don’t have to answer that, I know you weren’t.”

“Hey,” Lavi swallows his mouthful and jabs a finger at the student council president. “I know where you’re going with this and I’ll say it: I _wasn’t_ looking at Yuu, okay. I’m _tired_. I was _sleeping_.”

“I don’t think you should be proud of that either,” Link replies, deadpan. “I’m not lending you my notes.”

“I don’t need it, prez,” Lavi grins. “Prelims,” he waggles his eyebrows. “Let’s see who’s gonna be top scorer again, shall we? But spoiler: it’s me.”

“If only you had that much confidence in your extra circular activities.”

“Low blow, man.”

“I did say you don’t have to do this to yourself.”

“Yeah, but nah,” Lavi smiles wryly. “It’s alright. I mean, it was, is, tough, but…it’s kind of fun now, when I’m not man overboard. It still annoying that I’m always lagging behind Yuu and Allen but hey, they’re _international_ sportsman,” he shrugs. “I’ve got to start from somewhere, right?”

“Since you have so much time,” Link agrees, and then smiles slightly. “He’s five steps behind you.”

“Rabbit. Hurry the fuck up.”

Lavi immediately freezes, dropping his spoon into the bowl with shock. “O-oh hey, Yuu,” he manages, glaring minutely at Link. “Have you eaten lunch?”

“We’re late,” Kanda says instead, tapping his foot impatiently. “Move, or I’m leaving without you.”

“Wait, wait—“ Lavi scrambles when Kanda makes good use of his threat, the other already starting to walk away. “Yuu!”

The sailor is already half way across the canteen when Lavi finally gulps down the remaining portion of his food and grabs his bag. “Uh, prez,” he pauses. “Do you by any chance have one of those—“

A granola bar is pressed to his face and he takes it, half annoyed and half sheepish at the pointed look Link sends his way.

“Don’t be late tomorrow, or you’re down on the list of late comers.”

“And here I thought our friendship meant more,” Lavi huffs. “See ya.”

He runs after Kanda with a bit of a sprint and manages to keep pace with the other just before they reach the foyer where a cab is waiting. Since they’re the only seniors who have obligatory holiday lectures, Allen and Mr Mikk are presumably already at the sailing centre. Lavi shoves in after Kanda in the backseat as they take the ride down—after a minute of debating, he finally holds the snack bar towards the other.

“Hey, eat this.”

Kanda gives it a side glance and turns his head out of the window. “Don’t want it.”

“You’ve got to eat something. You’re not going to eat until seven, earliest.”

“I’ll get something there.”

“No, you’ll be rigging your boat and being more concerned about being the first one in the water—just, eat it, Yuu.”

“Tch,” Kanda scowls, snatching the granola bar. “You sound like my old man.”

“Just looking out for you,” Lavi murmurs absentmindedly, gazing out of the window, and misses the pause that Kanda gives.

* * *

“What the fuck were you two doing out there?” Fou glares between the two sailors— _experienced_ sailors, unlike the redhead whom she has been coaching for the past months.

Debrief was supposed to be easy; most of the advice or opinions she had was for Lavi, but today her words were solely for the other two who had squabbled over the sea so loud that while she and the redhead were at the north buoy, both of them could hear the yelling from the south buoy.

“I fucking said starboard, the asshole didn’t want to move,” Kanda growled, arms crossed.

“I did tack, stupid Kanda,” Allen glared. “You, on the other hand, banged my boat on purpose!”

“Because I had the fucking right of way!”

“That was after _I_ tacked with puts _me_ in the right of way!”

“Bullshit, you were supposed to bear away—“

“There’s nothing in the rules that says that I can’t—“

“Children!” Fou barked loudly, blowing her shrill whistle on purpose to quieten them. “God, you two are so bitchy. What’s the damn problem? Just do the penalty and get on with it!”

“But Kanda—“

“The beansprout—“

“If you’re so insistent on wasting my damn time,” Fou threatens. “We’ll practicing penalties for the whole of next week.”

“Penalties?” Lavi cocks his head as the other two sour in silence.

“360s, or 720s,” Fou explains. “You turn the boat in a full circle or two circles, depending on your foul. It penalises time, basically, but if you’re fast enough it doesn’t matter that much,” she smirks. “Don’t worry, Red, you’ll give it a try at some point.”

“That’s what scares me,” Lavi admits.

He’s just getting used to tacking without capsizing, but _two_ tacks at a go? Or four? That sounds like a nightmare.

“Anyway, besides the bitching fit,” Fou narrows her eyes at the duo. “Pretty boy, you need to watch the shift in wind direction. That’s how Shorty caught up with you in the last leg. And Shorty, watch your daggerboard. Make sure it’s down. I saw you drifting a bit. Red, good form today. But you need to get across faster. Also remember to watch where you’re going—I know you don’t like to tack, but if you sail too far out the current pushes you off course, and then you’ll have to cover more and lose time. That’s it. Go wash your boats—but Red, stay for a bit.”

Lavi lingers as Allen and Kanda walk off to their respective boats, feeling slightly nervous. “Is this something bad?”

“Nah, chill, kid,” Fou grins. “Just some suggestions. There’s an upcoming regatta at the end of this month. You don’t have a choice—you need all the experience you can get.”

“I wasn’t—“ Lavi winces as he remembers his last experience. “As in, yeah, I know.”

“I was wondering if you’d want to have more trainings, to get you up on speed faster. Don’t get me wrong—you’re doing well, Red, but you can do better if you had more than twice a week on the water. There are some weekend training groups you might want to consider. Are you open?”

“Well, uh…I don’t mind,” Lavi says slowly. “I mean, I have the time, but the fee isn’t covered the school, is it? My old man isn’t too hot about handing out cash for anything but books, so…“

“I see,” Fou nods. “Okay. I’ll see if there’s anything I can do about it,” she pats his back with a little more force than Lavi braces himself for. “Go wash up, kid. I’ll see you next week.”

* * *

At the end of the second week, Fou tells him to come in Saturday morning with his sailing gear. Lavi doesn’t think about it too much until he gets there—he’s assuming that Fou has some free time to give him more water experience, but he’s clearly not prepared when he realises that he’s going to sail with a bunch of _internationally ranked sailors_.

“Red, this is Tiedoll. He’s the coach for the international byte youth team. He said he’s happy to let you tag along for some water time, but his priority will of course be on his team. You cool with that?”

“Hi…uncle…” Lavi blinks, stunned.

Isn’t this old man _Kanda’s_ father? Foster father?

“Lavi, wasn’t it?” The man holds out a hand for him to shake. “How have you been?”

“I’m good, thank you.”

“Woah, you two have met?” Fou raised an eyebrow.

“My dear boy asked me to take them out once. It was the most splendid thing I’ve ever seen my son do for a friend!”

There was splendid silence for thirty seconds until Fou burst out in raucous laughter. “…You’re fucking kidding me,” she stated after, ignoring the wide eye glance Tiedoll shot to her for the curse. “Let me get this straight. Pretty boy, your son, _your son_ asked you to take Red out for a water spin? When was this?” she demanded, half smirking and half delight with tears.

“After the um, regatta?” Lavi answers slowly.

Fou stares at him for a few more seconds before collapsing into laughter again. “Fuck, fuck, this is gold,” she grinned to herself, not bothering to hide the mirth. “Oh god, phew,” she fans herself, “Right. I’m leaving you in your father-in-law’s hands, so do me proud, Red,” she nods, almost solemnly before strolling away with chuckles from her lips.

Lavi watches the small figure disappear into the distance, half confused, half embarrassed—he isn’t sure why he feels embarrassed, but he jolts when Tiedoll lays a hand on his shoulder.

“You should get changed up,” the elder tells him warmly. “Find Yuu at his boat when you’re done, he’ll have yours too.”

Using _Kanda’s_ old boat again? “But, uncle—“ he starts to protest, but the coach was already walking away.


End file.
